Fire and Ash
by harmoniedusoir
Summary: "The future cannot be known, and choices may always be made." That may be, but dealing with destiny in an alien land is made all the harder when you have your own demons to face. TES III: Morrowind novelisation (yeah, I know) but in an attempt to truly bring the game to life. Main quest/side quests, Julan Kaushibael spoilers. T for violence. Finished.
1. Prologue

**A/N and Disclaimer:** **I am the writer of fireandashfiction on blogspot. While I like the blog format for presenting my story, it does make it difficult to gain constructive feedback, which is why I am also uploading my fiction here. I'll aim to do a chapter a day! TES: III Morrowind is the property of Bethesda. Julan, Ashlander Companion and associated quests/dialogue are the property of Kateri.**

* * *

**_Prologue_**

_It had been a long day of council meetings, taking notes and listening to unresolved arguments. And now, Glabrio Bellienus watched the Emperor, Uriel Septim VII, pace in his private quarters. These days he worried for the old man's health. And stability. He wasn't quite sure if the whole business with Tharn hadn't just worn away at what was left of the elderly Imperial. But now, faced with strong rumours of the growing threat in the northeast, His Majesty seemed suddenly rejuvenated. Determined. And to be called to the Emperor's private quarters in the middle of the night meant that he must have reached a decision. Whatever Glabrio very privately judged the Emperor's health to be, he trusted him and he trusted his judgement._

_"Well, sire?" he asked._

_"The situation is worsening. We now know for certain that the tools were lost ten years ago. And these recent assassinations and reports of attacks are most troubling. As is the apparent spread of the Blight."_

_Glabrio shifted uncomfortably. This was just a summary of Caius's most recent reports, raised at today's unfruitful meetings. In the end the final decision had been left to the Emperor. He spoke: "Your council, sire?"_

_"Are you familiar with Zurin Arctus?" the Emperor asked._

_"The Underking? I don't see what-"_

_"Each event is preceded by Prophecy. But without the Hero, there is no Event."_

_Riddles again. "Sire?"_

_"Search the Imperial City Prison's Dungeons. A prisoner saved my life nearly forty years ago. I will never forget it. We have the prophecy. Find the hero."_


	2. Brewing Storms

_**Chapter 1: Brewing Storms**_

By the age of twenty-one, Llovesi knew three things for certain.

The first was this: she was a killer. The second: she was still a good person. And the third: magicka was bad.

These three notions she held close to herself, using their childhood origin to build her adult identity: a wall to hold any danger inside herself. They were important to remember; they anchored her in reality. Thus the news and jibes and attempts at conversation from intermittent and long-term prisoners that surrounded her, were like the waves crashing upon the shore of the Niben Bay: constantly changing but never managing to erode her sense of who she was.

But now, something was happening that could threaten to change that.

She was having a dream.

_Fire and ash – no, red clouds of dust. A storm in the distance._

_**They have taken you from the Imperial City's Prison, first by carriage and now by boat.**_

Yes, the boat. Rocking now worse than before, with great creaks and moans as if the rough handling of the sea were threatening to tear it apart. She had never been on a boat before. She didn't think she would repeat the experience in a hurry.

_The storm was closer now. A flash of lightning._

_**To the East; to Morrowind.**_

Before the boat, there had been the carriage. Three days of almost silent journeying, hands bound, instructed not to talk. She had asked where they were going anyway. They wouldn't tell her.

_**Fear not for I am watchful.**_

Fear was better than boredom. Fear was better than apathy. It was adrenaline and surprise, something new and interesting after all those years.

_**You have been chosen.**_

**"**Wake up, we're here! Why are you shaking? Are you okay? Wake up!"

Llovesi jolted up with a start as a rough hand shook her awake. Swinging her legs down from her hammock and attempting to flick her hair out of her eyes, she shrank away from the man who had roused her.

A Dark Elf, shackled like her, wearing the same standard issue, sackcloth, prison pants as her, but naked from the waist up. His body was laced with scars, including a particular vicious one that twisted across one of his eyes, both of which were currently fixing her with a rather apprehensive look.

"Ah, there you go. You missed quite a storm last night. I don't know how you managed to sleep through. You, ah, you were mumbling in your sleep..." He trailed off. Llovesi stood up carefully. unable to use her shackled hands.

"I've never talked in my sleep before. But, then again, why would you lie?"

She felt sure that such a thing would have been the talking point of the other prisoners if she had done it. In truth she felt she _had_ been dreaming, but she couldn't for the life of her remember what it had been about. She relaxed a little. If he was a prisoner as well, she could probably trust him.

"I'm Llovesi. You are?" she asked.

"Jiub. You're a strange one, aren't you?" he replied, grinning.

"You don't know the half of it." Llovesi had meant the comment to sound jokey but to her dismay it came out sounding sniffy and rude, and a touch sinister. Jiub's smile vanished.

"Yes, well, I heard them say we'd reached Morrowind. I'm sure they'll let us go."

He looked as if he frankly couldn't wait. Llovesi was surprised at his restraint. She had enough self-awareness to realise that anyone else might instead be hammering on the cabin walls, demanding to be separated from the crazy Dark Elf girl.

But, sure enough, the rocking had almost stopped, and the sound of waves gently lapping against the ship mingled with calls and shouts from the top deck.

_Morrowind_...she'd heard of it. Who was that prisoner again? He'd come into the cell opposite hers just a few weeks ago. _Dreth, that was it_. She'd listened to him enough to know that he'd come from the province of Morrowind, but then he'd started making lewd comments about what he'd do to her when the guards left and she'd retreated back into herself. She hoped she wasn't being relocated to a prison full of Dreth-alikes. Apart from that passing reference, she had no idea where she was. She opened her mouth to ask Jiub, but he raised a thin grey finger to his lips.

"Shh! The guards are coming!"

A stocky, irritable-looking Imperial was striding down the narrow wooden passageway towards them. He pointed a stubby finger at Llovesi. "You, this is where you get off. Come with me."

Llovesi glanced at Jiub, who shrugged. "Better do what he says," he said.

"Bye then," she mumbled, as the guard turned back the way he had come, moving with surprising speed for such a short man. She jogged after him, her questions still in mind, but she couldn't catch up with him. Anger rose in her, for the first time in ages.

"Hey!" she shouted. "Stop! Why won't you tell me-? Hey! _What's going on_?"

He stopped suddenly, quickly enough for Llovesi to regret shouting. He strode back to her as quickly as he'd strode away and cuffed her across the ear, sending her to her knees, reeling.

"If you know what's good for you," he said, "you'll remain silent. You will not address an officer of the Imperial law in such a way." He shook his head in disbelief. "You were so quiet on the journey over. Here I thought this would be an easy trip. On your feet prisoner."

He hauled her up by the elbow, and at this second touch Llovesi snapped. She flung a foot upwards and caught the guard in the groin. When her foot hit metal she rolled and tried to bite him on the ankle. She would have continued her ineffectual assault but the guard caught her by the shoulders and shook her roughly.

"By the Nine Divines you're completely insane." Disgust ran across his face as he dragged her up a flight of stairs, then kicked her towards a trapdoor. "Get yourself up on deck, and let's keep this as civil as possible."

Llovesi limped up the ladder as best she could with her hands shackled in front of her. This was too much, too fast, too sudden. Like a stubborn infant she found herself pushed blinking into the sunlight. The brightness hit her first and she squinted, taking in her surroundings.

They'd moored by a small jetty near what looked like standard Imperial village: all thatched stone houses and smaller reed shacks. So far, so normal, but it was as if someone had taken a small chunk of the Waterfront and dumped it into a swamp. An alien swamp at that.

Llovesi eyed the tall insectoid creature that was standing across from the dock in the river nearby, and had to fight the urge to dive back below. Bullying guards were better than this. And by the Nine Divines what was that _smell_? She coughed and cast her eyes over the thick jungle of trees and vines and ferns that stretched as far as the eye could see, up to what looked like a mountain range in the distance, and took in the array of buzzing that filled the air, accompanied by a low carrying moan that she was pretty sure had come from the tall bug-thing.

Determined to remain stoic, she stepped forward with what she hoped looked like quiet indifference.

A Redguard stepped forward too and addressed her: "Well, look at the haughty Dark Elf girl. From what I heard below you have little reason to look so dignified." He laughed, but not unkindly. "Now, head down to the dock and he'll show you to the Census Office." He pointed to the jetty where, sure enough, another Imperial Guard was strolling to meet them – her.

She walked down and looked mistrustfully at him. She didn't feel like another beating, but she resented being kept in the dark. She decided it was easier to stay quiet. Luckily, this new guard seemed prepared to do the talking for her.

"You've finally arrived, but our records don't show from where."

_What._ "I must have misheard you," she replied stiffly, "you mean, you were expecting me, but you weren't aware that I was coming from the Imperial City?"

"No, we know that. I mean to say, where did you live prior to your incarceration?"

"Oh, well, I've lived in the Imperial City all my life. I suppose I was born there." She didn't feel the need to share any more personal information with the guard, but being an orphan made it difficult to know your birthplace.

"Great." _Was that a forced smile?_ "I'm sure you'll fit right in." _Oh I'm sure... "_Follow me up to the Office and they'll finish your release." _Wait, what?_

"You're actually letting me go?"

The guard turned round. "Of course you're being let go. What, you thought you'd been shipped across provinces just to go into another prison? Of course given what I heard from the ship I'm not entirely sure you're fit for release. You'd better behave. No funny business."

Llovesi was truly floored this time. "But, but... I hadn't finished my sentence!"

"If it helps, you can consider life here your new sentence. I certainly do." The guard sighed. "Look, I'm sure you'll be told what's going on, but I'm as much in the dark as you are. Okay?" He held the door open for her. It seemed her release was just as much a surprise to the guards here as it had been for those in the Imperial City. And for her.

The inside was just as Cyrodiilic as the outside. Wooden beams, rugs, tapestries. A roaring hearth fire... she flinched and turned away from it. Now wasn't the time for fear. Now, more than ever, she needed to try and stay on her toes. An elderly Breton sat working at the desk glanced upwards as she entered then stood up to greet her.

"Ah, yes, we've been expecting you. I'm Socucius Ergalla, Chief Agent here at the Census and Excise Office, Seyda Neen. You'll have to be recorded before you're officially released. Now, where are those forms... Guard, please uncuff her," he tossed over his shoulder as he searched the sheets of paper on his desk.

"With respect, Ergalla, not a good idea. She caused a fair ruckus coming in from the ship."

"Is that so?" He stopped in his search to peer at her. "A slip of a girl like that got the better of some Imperial Guards? I'll believe that when I see it. Remove her cuffs all the same, she'll need her hands to fill in the forms."

Llovesi cleared her throat, conscious of the strange feeling of being both the centre of attention and part of standard routine. "If that's what you're expecting, you may as well keep the cuffs on. I never learnt to write properly."

"Ah, here we are: Prisoner Release Forms," Ergalla said triumphantly, then paused. "Never learnt to write? A sense of humour is good, but it hardly seems the time..."

"I rarely joke."

To his credit, Ergalla didn't bat an eyelid as he changed tack. "Very well, please sit down and we'll fill them out together." He set a sheet of paper in front of them and dipped a quill in a nearby inkpot briskly. "Now, name?"

"Llovesi."

"... No family name?"

"Not that I know of."

"Age?"

"Twenty-one."

"Place of origin?" The guard who had brought her in leant over and whispered in Ergalla's ear. "Imperial City? Very good. Profession? That is to say, what did you do before your imprisonment?"

Llovesi flinched. Not exactly what she'd been hoping to recall. "Well, I was a maid..."

"Hmm, well I'm sure you're not leaving prison to go straight back into servitude. Any other useful skills you can think of? No? Well how about I put Freelancer? Adventurer? Mercenary?"

Llovesi shuddered. Didn't mercenaries kill people for money? Not what she wanted to be, not after what had happened. "Put Adventurer." _First 'adventure': find out what I'm doing here, _she thought grimly.

"Right. Can be good, profitable work. Exciting too, I gather," he continued with the tone of one who couldn't contemplate a more exciting life than the form-filling-in, administrative one he currently had. He eyed her skinny frame: "Of course, perhaps for those who are more, ah, prepared... Very well. The letter that preceded you mentioned you were born under a certain sign. And what would that be?"

This one she could do easily. The orphanage had apparently had a policy of taking children to the Arcane University to discover, what, if any, their star-sign was and given that she'd been brought to them, a few weeks old, at the end of Sun's Dusk, hers had apparently been easy.

"The Atronach."

"Interesting. Okay, I'll stamp these papers for you, show them to the Captain when you exit to get your release fee."

He passed the forms back over to her. A guard posted by the only other door in the room was unlocking it.

"Well, uh, thanks..."

"Oh, not a problem. Remember, the Census and Excise Office is always here for a citizen in need. Welcome to Vvardenfell, Llovesi."

The guard by the door beckoned her over. "Head through the corridor to the next building and talk to Captain Sellus Gravius."

Once in the courtyard, Llovesi breathed in the humid air deeply and tried to calm her beating heart. She looked down at the papers in her hands. She was holding her freedom in her unbound hands. She made her way across the small courtyard.

Just as she was lifting the latch on the door, something caught her eye: a glinting in a nearby barrel. She reached in and pulled out a small, engraved ring. It hadn't been reflecting the sunlight; the sheen came from the barely perceptible magical aura that surrounded it. And she as she thought this, she felt her magicka rise up to harness that of the ring and – _burning, burning they all burnt and it's your fault and you wanted to but you didn't mean to oh why won't the screaming STOP! -_ She came to, gasping, her left side awash in phantom pain. Straightening up she noticed that she had dropped the ring back into the barrel.

It took her remaining strength to not collapse in despair. Somehow, stupidly, she'd thought it would be easier than this. Being released seemed to have made her reckless, or maybe her metaphorical wall wasn't as strong as she'd thought. The fire in the building had been a warning; she'd ignored it and look what had happened. She'd forgotten rule three: magicka is bad...

She left the ring safe where it was and entered the next building.

Another room, much like the first but smaller, and this time the man hard at work on an overflowing desk was Imperial, and dressed in full ornamental armour. Llovesi coughed and held out her papers: "Captain? These are for you."

He glanced up, then back at his work, then looked at her properly and sighed irritably: "Thank you, I'll just take those. I'm sorry: word of your arrival reached me only yesterday." _That explains a lot._ "I'm Sellus Gravius, but who I am and what I do is not important. I'm here to welcome you to Morrowind."

_Finally some answers_. "So where am I? Where exactly is Morrowind? Why am I here?"

"Technically, this is Vvardenfell District, the island at the centre of the eastern province of Morrowind, part of the Empire – following? Good. Rougher, less cultivated, but safe on the whole, and we're working on the cultivation part. Your ancestral home in fact."

He moved round the desk and leant on it while talking to her.

"But as to why you're here, I'm afraid I don't know. You'll have to go further afield for the answers to that question if you care. But I do have something important for you. Instructions on your duties. Direct from the Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself, and he was the one who authorised your release, so pay careful attention."

He grabbed a thick package from his desk, and a small sheet, which he scanned quickly. "Right, so you're to take this package to Caius Cosades, in the town of Balmora. Go to the South Wall Cornerclub: ask for him there. Serve him as you would the Emperor. This letter explains more. I also have a small disbursal to your name."

He returned to his seat and rummaged in the desk drawer. Llovesi felt rather dazed. "I'm sorry, the _Emperor_ authorised my release. _The_ Emperor? Why?"

"Like I said, I don't know. But that's the way the Empire works, Silence. Secrecy. Let not the left hand know what the right hand is doing. I'm sure if you hurry that package along to Cosades as you've been instructed to do, you'll find out more."

He plonked a small coin purse onto the desk: "There's your gold. When you leave this office, you're a free woman." He glanced at her stricken face, and seemed to take sympathy. "Look, here's my advice, take the silt strider to Balmora: it's fast, cheap and safe. Won't have to worry about fighting off the local wildlife while you come to terms with your new home. You are okay, aren't you? The men said you were acting a little, ahem, _strange_ when they brought you in from the ship."

"I'm fine." Llovesi lied. She thanked Sellus Gravius, took the package, the letter and the coin purse and walked out the door.

* * *

Llovesi glanced at the letter Gravius had given her. It contained nothing more than what he'd told her already, except some rather official and scary sounding stuff on serving and betraying the Emperor. She folded it and carefully slipped it into her coin purse. Out of sight out of mind. If only that were true. _As for this package... _she turned it over, felt its weight, examined it. Sure enough there was an official-looking wax seal. The desire to stay out of trouble for the time being won over her curiosity and she left it alone. Instead she tucked it under her arm and looked at the village square, unsure of which way to turn first.

It was quiet and humid, people were largely getting on with their lives and ignoring her, which was just fine. A few villagers were chatting by the well, a couple of children were play-fighting in the grass near the stone wall, which she had so recently seen from the other side. It lacked the hustle and bustle of a city, but at the same time she felt that the people going about their business probably didn't want to be bothered by questions. There were a few bored-looking guards patrolling. Maybe she could ask one of them for directions.

But wait... a small Wood Elf man was approaching her. "Hey, are you the one that boat dropped off?" he asked.

Llovesi wondered briefly about the boat. Clearly they'd been in a hurry to leave, as she could barely make it out on the horizon. She wondered too about Juib. Then she realised that the man was waiting for an answer.

"Yes, my name is Llovesi. You are?"

"Fargoth. I hope they treated you okay. I swear they took my ring."

"... Your ring?"

"One of their weekly 'Let's shake down Fargoth' rituals no doubt. An engraved ring, enchanted with a healing charm. A family heirloom, actually. I don't suppose you saw it?"

Llovesi sighed, looking down at the man's hopeful face. She doubted very much from his shifty manner the truth behind the 'family heirloom' story but she didn't feel in a position to judge.

"Yes, I did. But I left it where it was. In a barrel behind that wall." She jerked her thumb at the stone wall.

"Oh thank you, thank you!" Fargoth practically jumped for joy, and before she could reply he was scaling the wall with surprising speed. In a moment he was back, the ring glinting on his finger.

"Yes, it was there! Thank you so much, I'll be sure to tell everyone you're to be trusted, including my friend Arrille, he runs the tradehouse here." With that he was off.

Llovesi watched him go, slightly bemused. Was it really that easy to get people to like you? The tradehouse seemed like a good place to start, but she needed to sit down and try and get her head straight. She still felt decidedly shaky.

Sat in the shade of a large tree she looked at the package again. What on Nirn did it mean? Maybe the Imperials had started using prisoners as a postal service. _I suppose we're an expendable resource_, she thought and the idea almost made her laugh. But she didn't feel much like laughing. Her violent behaviour on the ship had shocked her. She was not, she had thought, a naturally violent person. Maybe the stress of relocation and not knowing why had gotten to her. She didn't know, and it scared her. The rapid-fire succession of guards, questions and official documents had shaken her inner certainty and now the foundations might be crumbling. What was she really doing here? Why her?

"Who am I?" she mumbled to herself.

"It's far too lovely an afternoon for an identity crisis, don't you think?"

Llovesi whipped her head skywards to see who had spoken. A Redguard women had stepped forwards from the shade of a house. Everything about her was somehow steely, from the sword she wore at her hip to her piercing eyes. She looked tough, but not unkind. And she wasn't wearing the Imperial armour but a kind of studded leather so she probably wasn't a guard. Still, all the same... Llovesi ignored the hand the woman was offering her and scrambled up by herself.

"I'm not having an identity crisis. Who are you?"

The woman laughed. "By Kynareth, you're almost as friendly as the locals! Elone's the name. I don't suppose I'll have the pleasure of yours?"

Llovesi allowed herself to relax a little. Being rude probably wouldn't get her anywhere fast, but she couldn't help feeling wary of the new people in this new place.

"I'm Llovesi. Pleased to meet you." She hesitated, then held out her hand. Elone grasped it warmly.

"The pleasure is mine, Llovesi. It's nice to have a new face around. You're the one the boat dropped off aren't you? Rare to see a ship at that hour. Actually, rare to have someone coming through Seyda Neen at all. Can't think why." She snorted.

Llovesi shrugged. "I need to get to the tradehouse, can you show me where it is, please?" she asked.

Elone laughed and pointed at the building she had been leaning on.

"It's right there. Pretty hard to miss when it's the only thing resembling a social life this place has. Come on. I'm the publican actually, of the bar upstairs. I'm about to open up, why don't you come up for a drink?"

* * *

Arrille, the High Elf who ran the tradehouse greeted her like an old friend when she walked in so she presumed Fargoth had already been and gone. She set to bartering with some degree of confidence, having seen it done as a child but, despite his friendliness, Arrille was surprisingly tough on prices. Still she managed to come away with a new set of clean, if slightly worn, clothes, a green travelling robe, boots, a large satchel and a small Akiviri dagger. The tanto had been more at Arrille's insistence than her own desire. Apparently the roads of Vvardenfell were notoriously unsafe, but to a girl who'd spent her life inside the Imperial City that was like saying Skyrim was probably a bit cold. On a whim she also paid ten gold drakes to rent a room for the night, reasoning that Caius Cosades probably didn't expect her to arrive in the middle of the night.

The route to the room took her through the bar, which was slowly starting to fill. Elone called to her as she passed: "Llovesi! Come have a drink, on the house!"

Llovesi didn't feel she could refuse without drawing even more attention, so she made her way over to the bar clutching her satchel like a shield in front of her.

"Here." Elone set down the glass she was cleaning and poured a frothy brown liquid into it. "A pint of the local mazte. And this," she was digging around under the counter, "is for you as well." She blew the dust off of a piece of folded parchment and laid it on the bar. It was a map. "It has major cities marked on it, you never know where you'll end up."

Llovesi took the gift in wordless thanks. Elone, it turned out, had travelled nearly all over the whole island, and could give Llovesi information on each region: major cities, typical flora and fauna, likely hazards... Despite herself, Llovesi was interested, and overwhelmed again. There was a lot about various political bodies that were prominent in each region, called houses, whatever they were. Balmora was apparently the second largest settlement after someplace called Vivec, which was the capital, and it was the district seat of House La-loo or something like that. Llovesi resolved to get a history book as soon as possible.

Gradually, their quiet drink started to involve the whole tavern. Llovesi suddenly found herself being introduced to everyone, and being presented with all kinds of drinks. A fair few people seemed to be just passing through: a Dark Elf Bard, Tandram Andalen, and Imperial Battlemage, Albecius Collolius...

Talk turned to gossip and drama. Apparently there was a lot of worry about a tax collector who'd gone missing recently.

"Ah, serves 'em right. Bloody Imperial swindlers, the whole lot." A large Nord who everyone called Raflod the Braggart seemed to be talking to the contents of his tankard. "Present company excepted 'course," he added hastily, glancing at Albecius who was fixing him with a steely glare.

"I wouldn't be so rash, Raflod," Elone said quietly, "the swamps aren't as safe as they seem. It could've been any of us."

The mood turned rather sombre after that. Elone sprang up. "By Kynareth, look at the time, it's completely dark outside. Everyone, I'm closing up."

* * *

Bright light. Head still fuzzy. Ow. Recollections of last night. _Oh, Divines_... Llovesi forced herself to sit up. She was on a bed, technically in a bed, in an unfamiliar room. No wait, it was the room she had rented last night. That was good then. The room was shabby, but anything was better than stone and straw. There was a small basin with a mirror set on a table near the bed. Llovesi stumbled over to it and dunked her entire head in it. Then she attempted the task of washing off eight years of accumulated dust and grime.

Glancing in the mirror she stared at her reflection for the first time in a few weeks. It was still her that stared back, same crooked nose, same angular features, same red eyes. Travel had added heavy bags to her eyelids, but that could have equally been the matze's fault. Wishing she could scrub her tongue as well, she swept her greasy, dark hair back from her forehead and tied it back. Her stomach growled, so she dressed, slung her satchel over her shoulder and went to see Arrille about some food.

Judging by the sun, it was almost noon by the time Llovesi stepped out of the tradehouse to make her way to Balmora.

"Excuse me!" she called to a nearby Imperial, "how do I get to the silt strider?"

"Follow the path round to the right and you can't miss it: it's the giant bug," he replied glumly. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to be leaving here right now..."

"Oh. Um." Llovesi stopped, feeling something more was required of her. "Why's that then?"

"I guess you could say I'm down on my luck. The truth is, I'm fed up of the dratted island, and this dratted village. Came here to make my fortune and all I'm left with is this cursed ring. If only I could sell it I'd be on the first boat to Narsis. Say," his voice took on a hopeful tone, "I don't suppose you'd be interested in buying it? Help me out? It's not _that_ cursed, has a pretty nifty speed enchantment..."

"No." Llovesi was firm. Curse or no curse, she didn't feel ready to handle another enchanted ring just yet. "I'm sorry, I don't want the ring. Sell it to Arrille. Here," she handed him thirty drakes. "That's really all I can spare."

"You mean, you'll just give me that? For nothing?" _Was thirty drakes a lot of money or something? _"You have made a friend in Vodunius Nuccius today! But listen, I can't let you walk away with nothing for your kindness, so I'll let you in on a little secret." He leant over conspiratorially. "I know where the dead taxman is."


	3. Aftermath

**_Chapter 2: Aftermath_**

_Why am I doing this?_ Llovesi thought, as she pushed her way through reeds and ferns, her feet slipping in swamp muck. _I should have convinced Vodunius to go to the guards himself_. But no, he'd blurted something about wanting no ties to Seyda Neen. And off he'd run, presumably to sell that blasted ring and get off the island. And she was just too curious for her own damn good.

_There._

She could see a foot sticking out of a patch of ferns. It hadn't been very well hidden. She steeled herself, then uncovered the rest of the body. It couldn't have been an accident. No one called a skull shaped like that an accident. He couldn't have been dead long though. _So what now?_ She noticed a bag lying next to the late Processus Vitellius and opened it. A scroll with a list of names and numbers, and a bulging coin purse. _Strange_... So whoever had killed him hadn't been bothered about robbing him. Maybe they'd been in a hurry, but this didn't seem very likely to Llovesi. After all, he was far enough away from the village, and the casual dumping of the body implied less urgency and more a lack of care.

Llovesi weighed the coin purse in her hand thoughtfully. She could take this and run... but then what would that get her when the body was discovered? A trip back to prison, thank you very much. As much as she disliked the idea, it was probably best to take this to the authorities. What was it Socucius Ergalla had said? _Remember, the Census and Excise Office is always here for a citizen in need_...

* * *

So that was how Llovesi found herself in front of Socucius Ergalla again, explaining what she had found. He had been very surprised to see her again and saddened by her story.

"What a waste. He was a good man, and a good tax collector. I don't suppose you happened to find the money he'd collected did you? I hate to be so callous, but I do have a Census and Excise Office to run."

"Yes." Llovesi handed the bulging coin purse over. "I found this scroll too."

"Ah, the tax records. Thank you Llovesi, your honesty is appreciated. I'll tell you what, I'd greatly like to see this murderer punished. In fact, killing one of the Emperor's tax collectors is punishable by death. If you find the murderer, and bring him to justice, the Census and Excise Office will pay you with five hundred gold pieces."

Llovesi gulped. Killing someone for money? Wasn't that exactly what, sitting in this Office yesterday, she had promised herself she would never do? Her hand involuntarily clenched around the tanto she was wearing on her hip.

"I... I'll find them, whoever they are. But I can't promise that I'll kill them."

"Well that's your prerogative. Thank you for informing me anyway, I'll start an official inquiry right away."

Llovesi left the Office in a slight daze. She couldn't just let this go, could she? Could she? There was a murderer wandering around somewhere... and it wasn't as if killing them would be murder as well, more an act of public protection. No, no, she had to walk away from this one. Musing, she barely noticed herself stumbling into Fargoth.

"Llovesi! You're still here? Wonderful, have you decided to stay for a bit? Listen we should go for a drink –"

"Fargoth." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I don't suppose you would know anyone who had a grudge against Processus Vitellius would you?"

"_Had _a grudge? Someone finally got to him, eh?" He stopped at Llovesi's shocked look. "Look, no one likes a tax collector, especially not one who flaunts his wealth like Processus did. Thavere over in the lighthouse was just about the only one who could stomach him."

He turned to go, his jovial mood almost entirely gone.

"Oh, Llovesi, word of advice? Don't get too mixed up in stuff you don't know about. Do you think the people in this village will really miss a tax collector that much?"

* * *

A few minutes later she was knocking on the door of the lighthouse. A meek-looking Dark Elf woman opened the door.

"Processus is that – oh. How can I help you? I don't believe we've met. I'm Thavere."

"Llovesi. Thavere, I'm afraid I have some bad news..." She hesitated, unsure of how to continue in the face of Thavere's worried expression. It turned out she didn't have to.

"It's Processus, isn't it? Oh, something terrible has happened!" Thavere burst into a sobbing mess and threw herself into a chair, hiding her face in her hands.

"Yes. He's been murdered. I'm so sorry." It was the sight of the crying woman that resolved her. "I'm looking to bring his killer to justice."

Thavere looked up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "You would do that? You didn't even know us... This is so sad. He was the gentlest man I'd ever met. We'd gotten ever so close in the past few months. I'd only ever seen him get angry a few times, but he'd never raise his hand to anyone. To think that someone might have killed him over one of those petty arguments is just unbearable!"

"Who did he argue with?"

"Oh, one of the fishermen I think. Foryn Gilnith, that was it. He thought Processus was taxing him too much, and saving the excess for himself. Ridiculous!" She paused, her anger having driven away her tears. "Llovesi, do you know if he was wearing his ring?"

Llovesi thought back to the corpse she had discovered. She was pretty sure there had been no ring.

"No, why?"

"Oh, I gave it to him. A present. I would love to have it to remember him by, if you could recover it."

Outside, a Dark Elf woman directed Llovesi to Foryn's shack by the swamp pond. The atmosphere in the village was tense. Perhaps it was the heavy clouds rolling in, or perhaps news of the murder had spread. Either way, a storm was about to break. Llovesi knocked on the shack door.

"What?" The door opened abruptly and a Dark Elf man with a heavily-tattooed face was glaring at her.

"Foryn Gilnith?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to talk to you. Privately."

"Well you'd better come in then, hadn't you?"

He slammed the door behind them and threw himself into a chair next to a table where a half-eaten meal was sitting. "Well? I'm a busy man and, as you can see, you're interrupting my lunch."

Llovesi noticed a expensive-looking ring on his finger. It seemed out of place with his rough clothes.

"I'm here to talk to you about Processus Vitellius."

Foryn threw his head back and laughed roughly. "That fetcher? If you think I did him in, you're damn right! A good thing too! He was overcharging all us honest people on our taxes and keeping the difference for himself. Then he had the gall to flaunt it all around town! So I killed the bastard and left his body out there to rot. Good riddance too."

Llovesi's jaw was hanging open. She couldn't believe it. Both that he had killed the Imperial and had that he had confessed so freely. Then she realised that it wasn't a confession. It was a boast. She felt impulsive anger flush her cheeks.

"Well that's no excuse for murder!" she snapped.

He glared at her. "Yeah? Well what're you gonna do about it? You're one of them aren't you, _outlander_. Yeah, I can tell the Emperor's lackeys when I see them, and I've no problem spilling their blood!" He lunged at her suddenly; his fist catching her across the face and throwing her sideways into a hammock.

He didn't stop, driving another fist into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her, then into her face. Llovesi felt her nose crack. A fear, a sudden rush for survival pushed her up. He was going to seriously hurt her if she didn't do something. Anger too, the anger was still there. _Don't let it take you._ She dodged the next flying fist, rolled and drew her tanto. Brandishing it in front of her she cried: "I don't want to hurt you! Just, just come with me to the Census and Excise Office and we can sort this out!"

Foryn just laughed. "If you think I'm gonna do that, you've got another think come-urk!"

It was a short, sucking gasp, filled with pain and shock. Llovesi looked down. His rage had propelled him onto her dagger. Or she had stabbed him. She wasn't sure. He sunk to the ground slowly. She pulled the dagger from his body. He lay there gasping and bleeding, but still very much alive. Time seemed to be moving slowly. In her shock Llovesi found herself remembering the rantings of a man who'd occupied the cell opposite hers for a few years. A mass-murderer:

"... _stabbings in the stomach is good but they've got time to call for help. Kills 'em nice and slowly. Gotta slit their throat, that'll hush 'em_ up..."

She bent over Foryn slowly and put her dagger to his throat. He looked her in the eye, and spat in her face. Closing her eyes, she slid the dagger down and across, swiftly and firmly, wincing at the sound it made. Hot blood spurted from the wound suddenly and violently, coating her hands. Then she pulled the ring from his finger and ran from the house.

The Dark Elf woman who'd directed her to the shack approached her carefully, while she got her breath back and tried to recover her senses. Her red hands were still clutching the bloody dagger and the ring.

"It's okay, sera. I heard the whole argument. I always knew Foryn's temper would come to no good. But this is going to unsettle everyone. I'd advise you settle your business here, then leave Seyda Neen as quickly as possible."

* * *

A few hours later, Llovesi was standing at the top of the Seyda Neen lighthouse. The sun was beginning to set, enveloping the waters below in a deep red glow. It looked like blood. Or fire. The clouds had burst earlier, but the rain had stopped and everything smelt fresh again. The coin purse Ergalla had given her as a reward, bursting with five hundred septims, was making a dead weight in her satchel.

She felt a tap on her shoulder. Thavere.

"I thought I'd find you up here. Thank you for returning the ring. I think I'll find peace now. I hope you do too. Here."

She was holding out a couple of flasks. "Healing potions. Processus normally carried some with him. If only he had carried some with him last time... You did a good thing you know. If you wanted to leave tonight, the last silt strider should be going in about an hour. I'll leave you be."

Llovesi thanked her, and turned back to contemplating the sea. The end of her second day in this place and she was a murderer. How quickly and easily she had transformed into a killer. _Again_. No, a justice-bringer. But was that any better really? Any different? Her intentions had been good, but someone had still died. And what was it Foryn had called her? One of the Emperor's lackeys. She was already doing his bidding, and she hadn't even reach Balmora yet. _Balmora_. She watched the sun's rays sink below the horizon then turned to leave for the silt strider port. _Time to go_.


	4. Small Steps

_**Chapter 3: Small Steps**_

Dusk had settled in by the time she reached Balmora.

Stepping down from the silt strider, Llovesi peered into the twilight at the city stretching out below. It was certainly big, though it paled in comparison to her memories of the Imperial City. A maze of streets winding through low, curved, sand-coloured buildings, rising by the city walls and descending in the centre, where a large river cut a path, splitting the town in half. Lanterns here and there cast patches of blue and green luminescence, and the torches carried by figures in armour were like fireflies in the enveloping darkness. Away from the swamp the air was fresher, but tinged with the unmistakable scent of dust and the day's heat.

She watched Darvame steer the silt strider back into the distance, then made her way down the steps into the town. A youngish Dark Elf with a red Mohawk was leaning against a nearby wall. Seeing no one else around, Llovesi approached him.

"Excuse me, sera," she began, remembering the term of address from Seyda Neen in her attempts to be polite, "I don't suppose-"

She got no further.

"Who do you think you are talking to me, n'wah? I can smell the Imperial stink a mile off. You, _Dark Elf_, are a traitor to us true Dunmer. Learn your place, ugly s'wit." He spat on the ground, then swiftly disappeared into the building behind him.

Llovesi heard laughter from the rooftop and felt hot shame creeping onto her cheeks, and she didn't even know why. What had she done? What was an 'n'wah'? For that matter, what was a Dunmer? But it was the spit that had done it more than anything. The second time in one day. And after the day she'd had it was the final straw. She burst into noisy sobs.

"The Cammona Tong are the ugly ones, softskin, you ought not heed their words."

She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder and turned round, sniffing back her tears. An Argonian woman was smiling at her gently.

"Well, this warm blood has been in the wars." Llovesi nodded and touched her nose gingerly. She had taken some of Thavere's potion, and although it had reduced the bruising and swelling, her nose would probably never be the same shape again. Not that it had been a good shape to begin with.

"You are new to Balmora, yes?" the woman went on. "An outlander familiar with this city would never try to talk to a member of the Cammona Tong, especially not right outside their Cornerclub."

There it was again, that outlander term.

"Why are you calling me that – outlander - I mean, you're hardly native!" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, before she realised that she was being rude again, but the woman just looked at her unblinkingly.

"You have much to learn. Yes in the eyes of the Cammona Tong we are both n'wah. Foreigner. Slave. It makes no difference to them. I was hatched in this city, I have lived here all my life, yet still they spit in the street as I pass them. I am but a filthy lizard, but you, your very existence is an affront. An Imperial Dunmer. Your accent you see, that and other things, will mark you out." She shrugged. "Of course it is not too bad. The Cammona Tong are the most traditional, the most xenophobic, but not everyone shares their views. But it is late. Tell me where you are headed, and perhaps I can help you find your way."

Llovesi told her and as they walked, something the woman, Hul, that was her name, had said struck her. "Slavery. Here?" she asked.

"This one is very new to this place. Of course slavery still exists in the land of the Dunmer. The traditional ones see themselves as superior to all, and we, the beast folk, are seen as dim-witted and suited to subservience."

"That's awful," Llovesi said, legitimately shocked. The idea of enslaving another being was unthinkable in the Imperial City.

"It is the way of this land; we are not strong enough to change it. If you truly care, there are those who seek to-" she stopped as they passed a guard. "We should not speak of these things, abolition is a crime under Dunmer law."

_That word again_. "What's the difference between Dunmer and Dark Elf?"

"Dark Elf is Imperial, and therefore an insult. It is more polite to use the old words: Dunmer, Altmer for the High Elf and Bosmer for the Wood Elf."

"But he spoke Tamrielic. We're speaking Tamrielic now," Llovesi said.

"Don't you see? Of course every native Dunmer must learn Tamrielic if they want to live in a province that is now part of the Empire. But keeping terms in Dunmeris, it is a way of holding onto their heritage," Hul said.

Llovesi made a mental note to try and use those words from now on. It took some effort to see herself as Dunmer rather than Dark Elf. They were crossing a bridge over the river now, which flowed dark beneath their feet.

"Thank you by the way, Hul. I'm sorry if I've come across as impolite, it's just that everything here is very different to what I'm used to." _What I was used to._

The Argonian laughed raspily. "I repeat: you have much to learn softskin. But accepting this is the first step on the path to knowledge." They walked a few more streets in silence, then stopped.

"This is it," Hul said. "There are some who say thieves are not much better than the Cammona Tong but they, for one, will not assault you because your accent is different. And it is not my business who you associate with. Good night." She turned back the way they had come, leaving Llovesi on the doorstop.

Thieves? Why on earth was the Emperor sending her to a gang of thieves to find someone? Best just get this over with as quickly as possible. She sighed and pushed the door open.

She stepped into a sickly smelling haze. A tall Nord woman standing by the entrance stuck her arm out, barring the way further in.

"What do you want, elf? Everyone knows this is guild territory. Not here to get involved are you?" She laughed heartily.

"Er," Llovesi started nervously. She was tall for a Dark E- for a Dunmer, but this woman was massive. "Actually I'm looking for Caius Cosades."

The woman relaxed almost immediately. "That old sugar tooth? Haven't seen him around recently. Might ask Bacola Closcius. He's the owner, must be around here somewhere." She looked around, as if expecting him to materialise out of a wall.

"Someone looking for me?" A smartly dressed Imperial man was making his way down the stairs.

"I'm looking for Caius Cosades?" Llovesi asked.

"Old Caius? He rents an old bed-and-basket in the north of Labour Town these days. But surely you're not going to bother the old fellow at this hour?"

"I think it's urgent."

"Only think? Well, why not stay the night? Bed and breakfast in the morning, a few hours delay won't hurt and it'll only set you back ten septims." He smiled the toothy grin of one pulling off a deal.

Llovesi slumped. Her bones ached, her mind ached, her nose ached and most of all, she was tired. What could it hurt? She didn't even mind putting up with the strange sugary smell.

"Sure. Yes. Fine. Thank you." She reached into her coin purse, trying to keep it out of the Nord woman's interested gaze.

"Upstairs on the left. Enjoy your stay." Bacola grinned, stashing the coins somewhere about his person in a flash.

* * *

Llovesi woke with the sun. Trying to roll out of bed, she found the task harder than expected. Every muscle screamed in protest. Hardly surprising given that three days prior, the most exercise she'd been getting was a few strolls around her cell to unstiffen her legs. She pinched her arms thoughtfully and winced. _Thin_. Not exactly wasting away, she'd been getting her allocated bread and gruel. But weak. _Useless_.

Groaning, she stumbled over to the dresser where she'd left her clothes and satchel. All still present. Perhaps thieves could be trusted, at least when you were in their hospitality. As she struggled her clothes on over aching limbs, she paused (as she nearly always did) to stroke the patch of shiny, warped skin on her left side. The scars didn't hurt any more if she was honest, not for many years, but sometimes she felt a phantom pain prick her side. She washed her face and poked her nose. It hurt a lot less, but was decidedly more wonky than ever. To top it off, she was sporting a blossoming purple bruise around her right eye, whose effect was only added to by her deep bags. _Oh well_. At least she could do something about her hair, which was definitely too long. Lifting her tanto, she sliced at it until it hung just below her shoulders.

She made her way all the way downstairs to an empty bar area. A waft of sugar still hung in the air, but the room was clear of smoke, and people, save for Bacola, who was wiping the bar down, and a Breton woman with a short crop of shockingly ginger hair. They were talking in low anxious voices. Llovesi felt as if she were intruding. She turned to leave, but Bacola had spotted her.

"Ah, our Dunmer friend is an early riser as well. Come in, we were just discussing local... politics. I'll see what food I can find." Llovesi sat gingerly on a barstool.

The woman turned to her, grinning, and shook her hand enthusiastically.

"Annette. Annette Renardette." Her voice was as singsong as her name. "I normally go by Ren. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I'm afraid I must be off. Jobs to do and all." Her cheeky smile made the nature of the 'jobs' perfectly clear. "Bacola, if what you say about Atrius is true then the situation is worse than I'd feared. I think I'll head north, see if Aengoth has any work. Enjoy your stay friend." She addressed the last to Llovesi, then raised her hand, drawing a trace of magicka across her body, muttering an incantation, and she was gone.

"Yes, she's a mage and a thief," Bacola said, perhaps reading the surprise on Llovesi's face. "Tricky combination. But one of the best we've got." He set a bowl of gruel and some bread in front of Llovesi. "It's saltrice porridge, better than it looks, as with most of the food in Morrowind, save the rat stew of course. I'm sorry you had to hear that friend. Corruption is an ugly thing, especially when it doesn't favour you. Ha. Life certainly isn't easy anyway, with both the guards and the Tong breathing down our necks." He sighed. "Anyway, eat up and give my regards to Caius when you see him."

Outside, it had started to rain heavily. A humid summer storm had arrived. She made her way through the streets, following the directions Bacola had given her. She was soaked within minutes. Luckily, at a fast jog, she reached the apartment block within ten. She knocked at the door of the ground floor apartment. It was flung open.

"Wha'! Who's bothering me?" An Imperial man was standing there, half-naked, balding, with the little hair he possessed standing wildly askew. His eyes, staring in opposite directions, managed to focus on her. The smell of sugar hung around him in almost noxious clouds.

This couldn't be right. "Caius? Caius Cosades?"

"Tha's me. Wha'?"

"My name is Llovesi. I have a package for you." Llovesi prayed to the Nine Divines that it didn't contain drugs. This was getting ridiculous and she felt more uneasy by the second.

The man's demeanour changed instantaneously. He cast a suddenly focused eye down the empty street then looked her directly in the eye. "Come in," he barked, all slurring gone.

The house, no - the room, smelt even stronger. Coughing, eyes watering, Llovesi glanced around nervously. Bottles littered the floor, as did books. The covers of the beds were thrown back haphazardly and a strange looking yellow pipe was resting on the pillow.

"Sorry about the mess. Let me see that package." He strode over to the table, pushed some books aside, slit the package open and began to read.

* * *

_Caius decoded as he read, scanning the letter with a frown creasing his brow. This? This was the Emperor's solution to the Red Mountain threat? Local superstition? Well, orders were orders and he intended to carry out the Emperor's wishes to the letter. As he had always done. He glanced at the lanky Dunmer girl dripping water all over the floor. She looked scared, terrified even, but at least she was making some attempt to hide it. So this was what he had been sent to work with. A malnourished and nervous ex-prisoner: what was the Emperor thinking? She looked as if she had already been beaten up. He'd be surprised if she lasted the week. Time to see what she was made of. Fortunately, they had time on their side. For the moment._

* * *

"It says here the Emperor wants me to make you a Novice in the Blades. That means you'll be following my orders. Are you ready to follow my orders, Llovesi?"

"What?" Llovesi blinked rapidly, voicing her thoughts before she could organise them: "No! Who _are_ the Blades? Who are _you_ really? What orders? No. What's going on?"

Caius stepped towards her. In a second he had changed again, from firm to positively imposing. She suddenly saw all in him that she had missed: his stocky physique concealed strength in waiting and his eyes were ferociously intelligent. She cowered instinctively.

"At this point you have two choices," he said, "You can refuse to follow my orders, the Emperor's orders, and walk out that door. I will have you arrested for treason within the hour and you will never see the sun again. Or, you can say yes and we'll go from there. So what will it be?"

Llovesi swallowed. "Doesn't sound like I have much of a choice."

"Oh there's always a choice, Llovesi. You'd do well to remember that."

"Yes. Yes, I'm ready to follow your orders. Whatever they are," she couldn't resist adding.

"Good. Then welcome to the service, Novice Llovesi. We're the Emperor's eyes and ears in the provinces –"

_What_. "By the Nine Divines, you're making me a _spy_?"

"So you're religious? Excellent, that will make a good cover identity. You'll need one. As you can see, I have mine." He gestured around the messy room. "Of course we're spies. And there are several of us here in Morrowind, watching things. Making reports. Following the Emperor's orders. You should visit the others if you want some training. In fact, that's part of your first order."

He looked her up and down. "You're new pilgrim. And, although you've got some spunk, you look it. Work on your cover. Here's two hundred septims. Get yourself some armour, some training. A better weapon than that toothpick. Get yourself some experience, learn about local politics. Join a guild. Go to Ebonheart and join the Imperial Cult. I don't care what you do, as long as you stay alive and keep your role in the Blades silent. Here," he found a small leather-bound book in one of the piles on the floor and opened it to the first page where he scrawled something. "A list of agents who are willing to train Novices," he said, passing her the book. "Keep the journal; it may be useful to you. Take a month, two tops, then come back and see me and I'll have your first assignment ready." He shooed her out the door before her mouth could open for another question.

Llovesi sat on the doorstep and thought about her next steps. She could join a guild. She could learn better writing skills with the scholars at the Mages Guild, but she wanted to stay as far away from Mages as possible. Caius had suggested the Imperial Cult, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to leave Balmora. At the same time, she felt trapped. She couldn't run back to Cyrodiil. They'd surely find her. Besides, it hadn't felt like home since that night eight years ago.

She looked at herself in a puddle. _Who am I? Yesterday, I was just a released prisoner_. _Now I know why I'm here. I'm a spy, except I have to pretend I'm not, and somehow make my way on this island, where slavery is legal and the locals mistrust me because I'm not native enough._

Should she give up? In truth she never really considered it seriously. A survival instinct had awoken in her from the moment she stepped out of the prison ship's cabin. It was like Hul had said: accepting you have much to learn is the first step to knowledge. She realised that a new idea was blooming, a new purpose that she could cling to. _Find out why. Why I'm here, why I've been made a Blade._ How? _Start by taking small steps_. Realising that, relatively, this was the most freedom she'd ever been given, and that it was both terrifying and thrilling, Llovesi made her way over the river to the guilds.

* * *

"No, no vacancies in this guild currently, Dark Elf." Eydis Fire-Eye was firm. She sat in full armour, polishing her blade as she spoke to Llovesi. "We could take you on, but we're looking for _fighters_. You look as if you've never touched a sword in your life, let alone swung one."

Llovesi slumped. She had been hoping to join the Fighters Guild. Apparently it was a choice between them and the Mages for outlander-friendly organisations in Balmora.

"Why don't you join the Mages next door?" Eydis could barely keep the sneer out of her voice. "Seems like they might be more your speed."

Defeated and humiliated, Llovesi left the building. She looked up at the carved sign of the building to the right. The Mages' eye. What was it Caius had said? _There's always a choice_. Well, she could make one. She wasn't going to be forced into this. She turned her back firmly. What else was there to do? She could buy a better weapon and probably some armour, for show if nothing else. She'd also need some training just in case... thoughtfully, she pulled the journal Caius had given her and ran a finger past the names. There were seven in total and three of them lived in Balmora. She was surprised to see that one of the names was Elone, but then again, being a spy meant hiding your identity. Well, she could do that she supposed. All those years spent in prison, carefully constructing a wall to contain her feelings and avoiding others' questions...

Her thoughts had occupied her on her walk over the river to the address given for 'Nine-Toes'. Now she knocked on the door and waited. An Argonian opened the door a crack. "Yes?" he hissed.

Llovesi hesitated. Was there a code or anything? She settled for: "Caius sent me."

"Ah." Nine Toes pulled the door wider. He was holding a letter in his hand. "Yes. He only just sent word of your arrival. Do come in."

Llovesi sat at the table while Nine-Toes rustled in some drawers. He sat opposite her and placed a small bag between them.

"Caius asked me to give you aid in adjusting to Morrowind life. I'm not sure what to offer you. I'm a cartographer by trade, I work on updating our maps, so I've travelled all over Vvardenfell. I can offer you advice on travel, conserving your energy, etcetera. Or I'm sure I have an old map somewhere you could have..."

"I already have a map."

"In that case take this." He pushed the bag across the table to her. "Some more practical help. It's moon sugar. Illegal to trade of course, given that it's a drug, but most Khajiit merchants will buy it. Like Ra'virr in town, or Ajira, over at the Mages Guild."

Llovesi took the bag and sniffed it. It smelt slightly sweet and she recalled her stay in the South Wall, as well as Caius's house. "Is Caius a drug addict?" she asked.

Nine Toes laughed. "Your guess is as good as mine. Of course, it hasn't impeded his abilities. This note arrived quickly and I imagine other agents are waiting to meet you."

Llovesi took that as her cue to go. She put the moon sugar in her satchel and left. Outside she checked her journal again. Both Rithleen and Tyermaillin lived in the same area of town but the sun was already high in the sky so she set off rapidly. As opposed to Nine-Toes, both confessed they held mere support roles. Both gave her gifts as well, an old piece of alchemical apparatus from the Altmer and a shield and helm from the Redguard warrior. Knowing that she would likely be facing more skilled opponents than a Dunmer fisherman with a grudge, Llovesi accepted Rithleen's tips on fighting gladly, if a touch apprehensively. But she had no use for the heavy armour, and she didn't see herself whipping up potions anytime soon, so she took her now bulging satchel to see Ra'Virr the trader.

He was counting coins at a small table as she entered. Hastily sweeping them into a drawer, he stood up to greet her.

"Hello. What can Ra'virr do for you?" A mercenary glint came into his eyes. "Aha. Ra'virr knows why you are here. You want to buy Ra'virr's famour Daedric weapons."

"What?" Llovesi asked blankly. She had no intention of buying any demon weapons. "No. I'd just like a normal weapon please. And some armour. And some food." Her stomach was growling again.

A short while later she walked out again minus the steel armour, the alembic and moon sugar but with a new dagger and a short sword as well as some boiled leather armour. Satisfied, she sat on a shady street corner to eat and consider what to do with her month of free time. Pulling out her journal and her map, she circled Caldera, Ald'ruhn and Ebonheart thoughtfully. The other Blades trainers were situated around the two former, and the latter, well... she'd made up her mind. She'd join the Imperial Cult. It'd be good work, likely low on fighting and maybe she'd be able to fit in there.

She traced the distance between the cities. Ald'ruhn was probably about a day's walk away but Caldera was in-between. Make that half a day, and if she left now she could be in Caldera by nightfall. Flinging her satchel over her shoulder, she set off through the warm and dusty streets. When she left the town under the bridge to the north she didn't look back.

* * *

Contrary to her prediction, night had fallen by the time she limped through the gates of Caldera. A nearby guard closed the gates behind her and looked her up and down, but didn't say anything. She was glad; she knew she looked a complete mess.

First there'd been the giant green dog-thing. It had chased her for a least a mile before she managed to kill it. Immediately after that another beast had launched itself at her from the bushes, narrowly missing goring her with its tusks. She'd had to hide from that one up a tree. Luckily it didn't seem to be very intelligent. The same could not be said for the shrieking giant-bird things that had dived at her from the tree, forcing her into a nearby cave. By the time the coast was clear and Caldera could be seen on the horizon, it was getting dark, she was tired and bleeding, her clothes were torn and her feet ached. She staggered past the guard into the first inn she saw and, ignoring the other patrons' stares, paid for a bed to slump on.

When she woke in the morning she ached no less, though she felt rested. Finding Surane Leoriane, the Caldera agent, was no difficulty. Caldera was refreshingly Imperial and easy to navigate: small with wide, open, cobbled streets.

Surane welcomed her warmly and invited her in. "Caius got a letter to me yesterday evening, but I wasn't expecting you so soon! Do come in! No trouble on the road I hope?" It wasn't really a question. Llovesi could see Surane eyeing her scratches apprehensively. She shrugged.

"Well, that's good then," Surane went on, sweeping books from the table onto a chair. "If you carry potions and Intervention scrolls you'll always be fine. Now what can I help you with – magic, advice? Local politics?"

Llovesi wasn't that interested in local politics but she was even less interested in hearing about magic so she asked Surane what her role was in the Blades.

"I'm keeping an eye on the Caldera Mining Company. We all think something fishy is going on, probably several somethings, but we're not sure what or who's involved. There are a lot of factions who have a vested interest in the mines – the East Empire Company, Houses Redoran and Hlaalu and the Twin Lamps – the abolition group."

The talk about politics was inevitable, as it turned out. Llovesi feigned polite interest as much as she could. It all sounded confusing and ridiculous but it seemed like she should be able to stay well out of it. Apparently the Great Houses rarely accepted outlanders into their ranks. The relationships between different factions did give her pause for thought, though. The Imperial Cult was not well liked; it was seen as bringing a foreign religion to a land that didn't want it. Worried, Llovesi asked Surane what she thought about joining a native faction.

"Well, that depends on two things really," the mage replied thoughtfully. "One, has Caius briefed you on your role?"

"No. He said I should get some experience before he gave me any orders."

"In that case it sounds like he wants you to find you own way, which really leads onto thing number two: do you want to?"

Llovesi just stared blankly.

Surane laughed. "I'm serious, Llovesi. You may be a spy but you still have your own life to live."

Llovesi hadn't really been living her own life up until this point, she realised. The last important choice she'd made had cast her into jail, where she'd simply wasted away, without a purpose or a dream. The freedom to make choices now scared her more than anything, more than giant green dogs, more than life in a strange new place (although it was admittedly linked to the latter) so, on the short hike to Sjorvar Horse-Mouth's guar farm she started by deciding all the things she probably wouldn't be trying. Stealing. Magic. Politics.

She also wondered what a 'guar' was. Maybe a type of vegetable. Caius hadn't given directions, but Surane knew the way well and had marked it on her map. Now she strode along the tree-lined path, twisting her map this way and that. The sun was strong, the way creature-free; she felt almost at ease.

She reached Sjorvar's hut and saw, to her horror, a group of two-legged creatures much like the one that had attacked the night before her strolling around. There was a tattooed Nord walking with them, patting them, whispering to them and feeding them large green leaves. He looked up and saw her staring.

"They're perfectly tame, lass. Come over."

She hesitantly made her way closer. A guar (for that must be what they were) nuzzled her affectionately in the ear. Admittedly, they were quite cute.

Sjorvar dusted his hands off and offered one to her. "Now I'm guessing you're Llovesi? Aren't many Dunmer who'd come pay me a visit out here."

They went inside to talk over a glass of fresh guar milk. Sjorvar's passion was his guar, but his role as an agent was keeping an eye on the smuggling operations of the Bitter Coast, a task he readily admitted was far too large for one man. Criminal operations were hard to police in Vvardenfell, given the resistance to the Legion, which was the first unified justice system across the whole island. The Dunmer still had ways of dealing with feuds privately and criminal organisations like the Commana Tong could carry on doing what they pleased and keep slipping through Imperial fingers. Llovesi remembered the mohawked-Dunmer from Balmora and felt pleased that she could at least claim the moral high ground. She might be 'n'wah scum', but at least she wasn't a drug trafficker, smuggler or slaver. Sjorvar taught her some more basics of fighting, sparring with her outside. Her technique was still depressingly bad and Sjorvar had little more advice to offer her, so she soon left to walk for Ald'ruhn.

She was making a good pace in the cool of the afternoon when she noticed that the clouds that were blotting out the sun had become even more ominous. In fact they were now quite low and growing darker. And what was that strange howling noise? Llovesi paused for a moment in thought, then realised to her horror that the large grey cloud wasn't in the sky at all, but rolling towards her with alarming speed. She turned and ran.

She didn't realise the futility of trying to outrun the thing until it engulfed her. It was dust. Choking, scratching, thick dust, forced along by the furiously shrieking wind. She was blinded in seconds. She fumbled with hood of her robe, pulling it close to her but it was no use. She couldn't open her eyes or they'd be shredded. She flailed around then stumbled over something in the dark and fell to the ground, hard. That was the last thing she remembered for a while.


	5. A Vocational Calling

_**Chapter 4: A Vocational Calling**_

"She's still sleeping." _A Dunmer voice._

"Oh. I hoped she'd be awake by now. She is okay, isn't she?" _A softer voice, the accent more western. Imperial? Breton?_

"She's fine. There wasn't much for our healers to take care of after you brought her here. You did well, muthsera."

"Thank you. May I sit with her?"

The voices cut through the haze of Llovesi's sleep. At first she thought she was dreaming, but the scrape of a nearby chair woke her for sure. She opened her eyes blearily. A Breton man was looking down at her.

He brushed a ginger curl out of his eye anxiously. "I didn't mean to wake you so soon, sister."

"It's... It's okay," she croaked in reply. Her throat felt as if she'd been forced to gargle slaughterfish scales. In other words, it hurt to talk. "What happened?"

"I found you face down in the middle of an ash storm, sister. I used my magicka reserves to heal you then brought you here: the Ald'ruhn temple. You've swallowed a lot of ash, try not to strain your voice."

Ald'ruhn. So she'd made it after all, although she'd have been dead on arrival if it weren't for the kindness of this stranger.

"Thank you." She meant it, but she couldn't help feeling frustrated as well. She couldn't even get from one city to another without something going wrong. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stretched, wincing as her back cracked. The man put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She noticed that he was wearing a simple cloth robe, as was the Dunmer now reading in the corner of the room.

"Are you a priest here?" she asked.

"Oh, by the Divines no!" He laughed nervously, and caught the Dunmer's eye awkwardly. "I'm with the Imperial Cult over at Buckmoth. Seeing as I'm in Ald'ruhn a lot I have a, well, a sort of cordial arrangement with some of the priests."

Llovesi almost jumped out of the bed in her excitement. "The Imperial Cult? I want to join!"

The man seemed quite taken aback. "If you want to repay me that's really not necessary, I-"

"No, no." Llovesi cut him off impatiently. "I mean, I was going to go and join in Ebonheart after I'd visited – after I'd visited my friend in Ald'ruhn. But couldn't you sign me up?"

The man laughed heartily. "I'm afraid it doesn't quite work like that. Anyway, if you're feeling well enough, I think we may have overstayed our welcome." Sure enough, the Dunmer in the corner was now giving them both dirty looks. Perhaps discussing her intentions to join the Imperial Cult in a Dunmer Temple wasn't the most diplomatic thing she could have done.

Outside, the man sighed deeply. "I should return to the Cult. If you _are_ serious about joining then speak with Syloria over at Buckmoth. You can see it from here," he gestured, "the large fort on the hill. Maybe I'll see you there. Or over in Ebonheart, I often work with the lay healer there. Might I have your name?"

"It's Llovesi."

"And I am Clause. Well met, Llovesi." He turned to leave, walking down into the town and towards the towering sandstone towers near the silt strider port. Llovesi watched him pass into the crowd, and then took out her journal to find Gildan's address, the final Blades trainer.

* * *

Llovesi arrived at Gildan's when the Bosmer was preparing lunch, so she was invited to stay and eat while they talked.

"I can tell from your voice that you got caught in last night's storm. You could have fooled me for a native!" Gildan exclaimed as she ladled stew into wooden bowls. "I hope you didn't have too much trouble?"

There was no point in lying. "It went just about as well as you would expect, given that I'd never seen an ash storm before."

"Well it's good to have a sense of humour about it, I guess," said Gildan, stirring her stew. This surprised Llovesi. She'd never thought of herself as a particularly funny person. "If you want my advice it's best to stay inside," Gildan continued, "but if you must go out then visit the traders in the city, they sell protective clothing and face wear. Of course, storms like that are part and parcel of life in Ald'ruhn, but I suppose for an outlander it must be a bit of a shock. Living on the slopes of Red Mountain, you get used to it." She shrugged. "Are you planning to travel much in the Ashlands, Llovesi?"

Llovesi hadn't really thought about it. "I guess so, if I need to."

"Then you need to know about Corprus disease. You've heard of the Blight I assume?"

"I know what _a_ blight is, but what you're talking about sounds different."

Gildan sighed. "It's bad situation, that's what it is. The Temple and the Cult here work as hard as they can to treat people, but it seems like there's a new case of Blight almost every week, and our walls don't keep Blighted Cliff Racers out. Corprus is worse. Far worse. We don't think there's even a cure. Of course it's rare, very rare, in fact I've heard of more people being killed by Corprus beasts than I have of people succumbing to the disease. But it kills fast and before it does, it turns you into a mean mad mutant, swollen, and bloated with rage."

Llovesi gripped her bowl. Yet another thing to add to the rapidly growing list of things in Vvardenfell to run away from, screaming. She stood up, hitting her knees on the table in her haste. "You know, I have to go. Things to do. Thank you for the lunch."

Gildan watched her with a half-smile. "Sorry. I didn't mean to spook you. But I think it's better if you know the threats we face. It'll help you to adapt."

Llovesi slumped. "Yeah, I know. But I've been hearing that since day one and it isn't getting easier." She was starting to realise that the land just wasn't going to accommodate her. But that didn't mean she had to accommodate it. "Like I said, things to do. I'm going to go make a difference."

* * *

"So I've been attacked, chased and caught in an ash storm. I've heard about the corruption and banditry that goes on, and the diseases that ravage the land. But there are people who make a living everyday and, on the whole, they've done their best to help. So that's what I want to do. Help people by doing the work of the Divines. That's why I want to join the Imperial Cult."

Syloria Siruliulus sat at her desk. The trader hadn't moved throughout the whole of Llovesi's speech. Now she looked up.

"You know, the little speech wasn't really necessary... But, we could certainly use lay servants like you. We only ask a one time pledge of fifty septims."

Llovesi counted the money out, conscious of how light her purse was becoming. Syloria then wrote her a letter of introduction to take to the Imperial Chapels in Ebonheart.

* * *

Ebonheart was the most Imperial town she had visited. Llovesi stepped off the ship that had brought her, and the sight of the city made her forget her seasickness immediately. People were moving up and down the docks transferring merchandise and crates from ships to warehouses, swapping early morning greetings as they did. There was now an autumnal breeze in the air, which carried the scent of fish, as barrels of the morning's catches were also moved.

Llovesi shivered in delight. If she closed her eyes she could be back in the Market District, or on the Waterfront. She made her way past an impressive carved ebony statue of a swooping dragon to the castle in the distance, where she would find the Chapels. Everything about the city boasted wealth and power: the administrative capital, and the capital of Imperial presence on the island. She had come past the Dunmeri religious and ancestral capital, Vivec, which had been impressive but it paled in comparison to the feeling of familiarity that Ebonheart inspired. _Why couldn't I have been dropped off here?_ she thought. _Thanks for the first impression, Seyda Neen._

To reach the Chapels she had to walk through the Grand Council chambers. Council wasn't in session, and she could make out a large ring of tables surrounded by empty chairs. A few richly dressed Dunmer were wandering around but they paid her little attention. She had been used to this before, important people in grand settings whose purpose in life seemed to be striding about being important, ignoring her. Being invisible was a relief. She tiptoed past in silence.

From a small, sheltered courtyard, she made her way into the Chapel building. It too was open and spacious, but with basic furnishings. Rows of benches faced an altar at which an Imperial woman was meditating serenely. People were strolling about; some were sitting at the benches and reading. The room buzzed with quiet activity. A few looked up when she entered. She approached the praying priest cautiously.

"Excuse me, are you Lalatia Varian?" she asked.

The woman didn't open her eyes, but spoke: "I am. You are our newest Layman."

"Er, yes." _How did she know that?_

"I am the Oracle here. I have seen your coming and in time I may have tasks for you. For now you should speak with Kaye, Synnolius Tunifus or Iulus Truptor for lay servant tasks."

"Er, okay," Llovesi said. The woman stayed silent. "I'll just leave this here then," Llovesi said, and placed her letter of recommendation on the altar. She looked around, half-hoping that any of the three men mentioned by Lalatia would spring forward and introduce themselves. No one did. She approached a Redguard reading on one of the benches, hoping it would be a lucky guess.

"Excuse me, are you Kaye?" she asked.

It was. The man looked up and closed his book. "I am. Are you ready to serve Stendarr as a Shrine Sergeant?"

_Straight to business then._ "What does a Shrine Sergeant do exactly?"

"A variety of things. I guarantee it'll be just as rewarding as being an almoner or lay healer but with more excitement. Perfect for an adventurer like you."

An adventurer? Her? Llovesi nearly burst out laughing. "Okay," she said, "what do you need?"

His reply was swift. "We treated a High Elf named Caryarel a few weeks ago for Swamp Fever. After he left we noticed a Chapel Limeware Bowl had gone missing. Please recover this bowl for us. Ask other High Elves where Caryarel lives; they are a close-knit community here on Vvardenfell. You might try Fanildil or Landorume over at the Hawkmoth Garrison."

"Right." Llovesi shouldered her bag. A thought occurred to her: "Is there a place I can stay here?"

"We have a dormitory downstairs for lay servants. If that doesn't suit, the 'Six Fishes' in town rents rooms."

Llovesi headed downstairs to the dormitory area. She passed two men talking and with a jolt recognised that one of them was Clause.

"Llovesi!" he exclaimed joyfully. "Do excuse me Synnolian – I was hoping to catch you here, Llovesi!" He accompanied her to one of the beds where she placed her satchel and turned to look at him quizzically.

"Really? And why was that?"

"Nothing sinister I promise!" He laughed. "Actually I have a gift for you. Here." He pulled a small package from his pocket and unwrapped it. There were two pendants sitting there, covered by a perceptible magical aura.

"They're amulets," Clause continued, "Almisivi and Divine Intervention. They'll recall you to the nearest temple in danger. Almsivi, you know, for the Tribunal and Divine, for the Nine. You'll never need worry about Ash Storms again!" He tipped them into her palms.

Llovesi felt herself grow faint before the amulets touched her hands. She fought to control it this time. The effort forced beads of sweat to break out on her forehead. She strained and then gave in, dropping to sit on the bed, letting the amulets fall to the floor. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I can't accept them."

She expected Clause to walk away in disgust, or to chastise her for being so rude. But he didn't. He knelt down beside her and clasped one of her clammy hands.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "I've never seen anyone react like that. Was it the amulets? Are you ill?"

"I just can't... I can't," she paused, aware of Clause's expectation. Was there any use hiding it anymore? "I can't use magicka. Or magical items. I-" she stopped, aware of the general activity around them. What if they were overheard and she was refused tasks in the future? "I don't really want to talk about it here."

"Well," Clause straightened up and offered her a hand. "I was going to offer to buy you a drink, and you'll find no better anonymity than in a tavern. What do you say?"

Llovesi gladly accepted.

* * *

Sure enough, the Six Fishes was crowded and cosmopolitan, so no one raised an eyebrow at the red-haired Breton walking in with the tall Dunmer girl.

They found a table near the back and Clause brought two teeming tankards of matze over.

"So," he said. "I'm all ears. Take your time."

Llovesi took a deep breath. "Eight years ago, I... had an accident. I used magicka and it got out of control. Badly." She was being economical with the truth, but she didn't think him knowing the more detailed version of events would be a good idea. "Ever since I can't, haven't been able, to use magicka without... well you saw." She took a long drink.

Clause drummed his fingers on the table. "Interesting. I'd like to help, if you're okay with that. I'm a healer, as you know, so I think I'd be able to."

"I'm not sure. Magicka is, well, it's bad."

Clause took her hand gently. "It's not all destruction and summoning Daedra you know. It saved your life. I won't make you do anything you don't want to."

Llovesi relaxed slightly. She looked at the man who had healed her. Could he be right? Was this worth breaking her third rule?

* * *

As Last Seed gave way to Hearthfire, Llovesi's life settled into an easier but busy routine. She lived and worked at the Chapels in Ebonheart, completing simple tasks for Kaye and the two Imperials and she practised her Cyrodiliic and Daedric script, the latter being predominant in Morrowind.

Kaye's tasks were by far the most interesting, but also the most dangerous, so she had only completed a few of them, accompanied by Clause when it seemed magicka would be necessary. The other tasks were easy, collecting ingredients and alms. She discovered a particular knack for the latter; her years of watching people from afar had taught her how to reason and bargain and, as she acclimatised to the peculiarities of life on this eccentric island, she found herself able to connect with other immigrants, whom she invariably had to persuade to donate.

When she wasn't busy, she took the Chun-Ook to Vivec to read. Clause had recommended the Library of Vivec for its extensive historical, geographical and religious texts so every few days she visited and pored over books. Perhaps it was the starvation of reading material she had experienced in prison that sparked her interest; she found that she devoured books as easily as drinking water. At first she tried to find information about the Blades but they proved elusive in all the books she read and she soon lost interest.

She learnt about recent history and politics, forcing herself to admit her earlier disinterest stemmed from ignorance. She read long reports on the flora and fauna of the island, noting the specificities of each region (and the names of the creatures that had attacked her). She'd known from her very first day that Morrowind was no Cyrodiil, with its tiled roofs, grand stone buildings, cats, dogs and horses. But the alien region was fascinating both for its differences, and similarities.

She found the Dunmer religion particularly interesting. Based on ancestor worship, they also venerated three 'living Gods', the Tribunal, one of whom apparently resided in Vivec. Worship of the Good Daedra (she hadn't been aware there were such things) was also common, but the Nine Divines were little recognised. She had many interesting discussions with the priestess Mehra Milo, a friendly and welcoming Dunmer about the same age as Llovesi. Unfortunately these discussions could not even touch on any mildly controversial issues under the watchful eyes of the Ordinators, the zealous guards in golden armour who watched Llovesi's every move and muttered hostilities as she passed.

Still woefully bad at sword fighting, she moved to favour the broader strokes of a spear, mainly because they kept enemies at more than an arms-length. She trained everyday for an hour with Kaye, sweeping and jabbing at mannequins in the courtyard and doing exercises for strength and endurance. She felt her body growing stronger and filling out. When she looked in mirrors, gone were the gaunt face and spindly body that used to stare back at her.

Magicka remained an issue. Clause started her with a simple light spell, but when she muttered the incantation it drained her entire magicka reserves into spells far more powerful than they should be, forcing her to drink potion after potion to restore her magicka. At least you couldn't hurt anyone with a light spell, aside from the occasional headache. They didn't dare try more powerful schools of magic. It was the same with enchanted items. She had learnt to stomach touching them and to control the impulse to use them immediately, but when she did use them she drained the item of its charge. A ring of levitation had had her floating for hours while Clause had attempted to dispel the effect. She had more luck with enchanted weapons, given that they were cast on strike and didn't require her to harness their power, but there was little point in her carrying weapons she didn't know how to use. And the more time she spent on Vvardenfell, the more she realised self-defence was a valuable skill, even though Ebonheart was pretty safe as cities went.

She spent ages in the Library of Vivec for a time, trying to understand why she had this issue of control with magicka, but found nothing. Stories like _Breathing Water_ held interesting theories on different states of mind and their relation to magicka use, but no matter what she tried, she couldn't get her spells to work how she wanted.

* * *

One blustery day at the beginning of Frostfall, Clause asked Llovesi to meet him by the dragon statue near the port. "I've had an idea. Scrolls!" He was brandishing a scroll of paper. "Think about it, you drain items when you try to use them-"

"Don't remind me." Llovesi interrupted bitterly.

"You can't do that with scrolls. It's like the enchanted weapons," he continued. "They're one use only. Perfect for the mage in a tight spot. And they might be what you need to get used to control. Here." He passed her the scroll. She unrolled it dubiously. "They're written in Daedric but you've been practising that, haven't you? This is a scroll of invisibility. Give it a go." He was practically bouncing with excitement.

Llovesi looked at the spiky script. _Well, what was there to lose? _

"Shadows and fog," she said clearly, and felt the magicka ripple through her body as the scroll dissolved in her hands. Her hands that she couldn't see.

"It worked! By the Nine it worked!" she shouted and was pleased to see several people look round in confusion, searching for the source of the noise.

She tackled Clause in a hug, turning visible as she did so. She wasn't sure what happened next, but suddenly she was in his arms and he was kissing her. They stood there, in the windy square of Ebonheart as the crowds passed them by for what felt like forever. When she pulled away, it felt as if no time had passed at all.

"I'm sorry, Llovesi, I don't know what came over me, I-"

"It's okay. It was nice. I've just never done it before."

Clause breathed a sigh of relief and grinned from ear to ear. "I'm so glad. I've had feelings for you for a while now."

"So, what happens now?" Llovesi asked.

"Whatever we want to."

They walked back through the city hand in hand.

* * *

Llovesi worked hard, and as Frost Fall too drew to a close she was promoted again to Acolyte.

"Congratulations, Llovesi." Synnolius said and handed her an enchanted belt. "You have shown yourself to be a loyal and diligent member of the Imperial Cult. Please do accept this Stendarran belt, to make your labours a little easier. Now I have one more task for you. You've filled our alchemical supplies remarkably, but I need a sample of netch leather for cure paralysation potions."

Gathering her supplies from the dormitory, Llovesi bumped in Clause, just returned from missionary duties in Ald'ruhn. He pecked her affectionately on the cheek. "Anything interesting?" he asked.

"Just fetching some Netch leather, I'm sure I won't be gone long. See you for lunch."

"Sure." He smiled and waved goodbye.

Llovesi strapped her spear to her back and swung her pack over it. She waved to people as she passed trough the main room, on good terms with the other laymen now.

She made her way through the castle and down to the docks, whistling as she went. As she passed the East Empire Company warehouse a hand suddenly shot from the shadows of an alleyway and pulled her into the gloom.

She shot a foot out furiously, catching her assailant on the shin and sending them sprawling.

"What do you want?" Llovesi spat. "I warn you I'm armed!" She gripped the dagger at her hip.

"By the Nine, you're just as flighty as you were when we first met!"

It was Elone.

"Elone?" Llovesi dropped her hand from her hip and offered it to the Redguard crouched on the floor. "I'm sorry. What are you doing here? Why did you grab me?"

"I'm delivering a message, and I couldn't exactly waltz up to the Chapels to hand it over, could I? It's from Caius."

Llovesi came down to earth with a bump. Of course. She should have realised how fast time was going. She'd been running on the enthusiasm of new friends, new work, new boyfriend. Now her life as a spy, that she'd been able to sweep under the carpet, had caught up with her. She leant against the wall weakly.

"He's having me watched?"

"Of course. He wanted to check you weren't going to run off anywhere. You've done all right for yourself, he's pleased, but time's up. He wants you back in Balmora. Better say your goodbyes, Llovesi."

Llovesi made her way back to the Chapels with a hard heart. What was she going to say to Clause? How could she explain when she wasn't allowed to say anything at all? _I know I've only known you two months but I have to leave now and I'm not sure when I'll be back_. She couldn't make it sound good, or innocent, in her head.

As it happened, she didn't have to. She was on her way up the stairs to the Grand Council Chambers when she noticed Clause, arguing with another redheaded Breton in a nearby archway. She ducked back to listen.

"It's out of the question, Ren!" Clause was whispering angrily.

"Oh come on! You've turned into such a bore! Is it your new girlfriend? When do I get to meet her anyway?" The woman teased.

"Don't try and change the subject. I'm not letting you into the Chapels, I want nothing to do with it. I heard about your guild's hit on the Mages in Ald'ruhn, you think I want that scandal here..."

They carried on. Llovesi slipped back the way she had came. So the mage-thief from all those months ago in Balmora knew Clause? It really was a small world. It sounded like he had enough to be getting on with, so she decided to get a message to him somehow from Balmora.

She boarded the Chun-Ook and paid for next passage to Vivec. Then she watched the city she had grown to love and call home fade from view as it shimmered beneath the midday sun.


	6. Pieces of the Puzzle

_**Chapter 5: Pieces of the Puzzle**_

"So." Caius was pacing irritably in his house. "I give you a month–"

"You gave me two," Llovesi retorted. She wasn't feeling particularly charitable given her rude summoning, and welcome.

"I believe I said two tops. At the very least I expected you to check in. Still." He paused to look her up and down. "You look well. Your work has paid off. I can only guess you took what I said about training and equipment to heart. I'm pleased to hear how you've made a decent cover for yourself."

"It's not a cover, it's my life!" Llovesi shouted.

Caius looked at her. "Do you need reminding what you were doing two months ago? Who gave you your new life?" he asked gruffly.

"No. Sorry." Llovesi was mollified suddenly. She was now cross with herself for losing her temper, as if the last two months had taught her nothing.

"So, you're ready for your orders?"

"Yes."

"Good. Go talk to Hasphat Antabolis at the Fighters Guild here in town. Ask him what he knows about the Nerevarine secret cult and the Sixth House secret cult. You'll have to do him a favour first of course. Probably an ugly one. That's the way these things work. But do it, get the information and report back to me." He spoke rapidly and Llovesi struggled to keep up, jotting down notes in her journal.

"Right. So Hasphat, Neverine Cult? Sixth House? I've never heard of either of them. And what _kind_ of favour?"

Caius might have nearly cracked a smile. It was hard to tell. "It's _Nerevarine_. And of course you've never heard of them, that's why I want information on them. Don't worry about the favour, it'll probably be some trinket that he's too lazy to go fetch himself. Now any more questions, or are you going to get going?"

Llovesi hesitated. _It was worth a shot wasn't it?_ "Just one. When are you going to tell me what _I've_ got to do with this?"

Caius looked down at her. He was somehow very good at that even though she stood a full head taller than him. "That's need to know, Llovesi. Right now, you don't need to know."

He stared her down in his inimitable way, then crossed to his bookshelf. "I almost forgot, Hasphat studies Morrowind history so take the time to get a little education. This book isn't a bad place to start either."

Llovesi read the cover: _A Short History of Morrowind_, Janette Sitte.

"Oh, I've read this one." It had been one of the books she'd flipped through in a session at the Library of Vivec.

"Really?" Caius sounded almost surprised. "Well take the book anyway, there's no harm in a reread. Now go."

* * *

A short while later, Llovesi was staring up at the gently swaying sign of the Eight Plates in the growing dusk. She had gone to the Fighters Guild, only to be told by a woman impatiently polishing spears that she had just missed Hasphat. Apparently he always took his dinner at this hour of the day. She pushed the heavy wooden door and went through into the warmth of the tavern.

It was busy, but not heaving. Patrons were drinking at the bar and some were eating at tables. She spotted a dark Imperial with close-cut hair eating alone at the back. She drew up a chair opposite him.

He didn't even jump, or turn his attention away from his food. "Can I help you?"

"Hasphat Antabolis?"

"Speaking."

"Caius sent me. He-"

He looked up grinning. "So, you're with Caius, eh? Let me guess, old Caius wants information." He wiped his mouth neatly and looked her up and down. "Well, there's a little this-for-that involved. A small favour. You understand."

"Yes. He did mention that."

Hasphat threw back his head and laughed deeply. "Old Caius, canny as ever. Now there are some Dwemer Ruins nearby called Arkngthand. I need you to run over there and fetch me a Dwemer Puzzle Box. It should be a little copper cube, about the size of a fist with symbols on one side and lines on the other. Circular design. Should be very easy to see." He held out his fist for demonstration. "You bring me that box and I'll give you all the information Caius wants."

"Sure." Llovesi jotted the notes down in her journal. She hovered her stick of charcoal over the word 'Arkngthand'. "What _are_ Dwemer ruins?" she asked.

Hasphat raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You've never been in a Dwemer Ruin? I thought it'd be all in a day's work for you. Still, it shouldn't be too much of a challenge and, as I understand it, Arkngthand has been empty for some time. You know who the Dwemer were?"

Llovesi strained to remember her reading. "I think... didn't they live here long ago? But they just disappeared?"

"That's right. More or less right, anyway. The ruins are what they left behind. Fascinating places. I actually count myself as a bit of an expert on the Dwemer so if you ever want to know more, you know where to come."

His words jogged something in her memory. "Caius said I should ask you about Morrowind history?"

"Did he now. Tell you what. When you bring that box back maybe I'll have a little something for you as well. Your time for my time."

* * *

Llovesi paid for a room at the tavern and the next morning she set off early for the ruins. Hasphat had marked them on her map and she traced a route north and over the Foyada Mamaea. She laced her boots, pulled on her cuirass under her winter robe and strapped on her weapons. She checked that she had her amulets of Intervention slung around her neck and for good measure she bought a few healing potions and shield scrolls. There was no sense in being underprepared. She hoped that one day she'd be able to count on using magicka as well but for now the scrolls and enchanted items would have to do.

The walk to the ruins was uneventful: this early the roads were still quiet and the frost that was starting to form this time of year was still undisturbed. However as Llovesi neared the bridge over the foyada she paused.

There was a man standing on the bridge. He wasn't walking like she was, but standing still, arms crossed, clearly guarding it. She hadn't expected this. Maybe she could sneak past him? She held a scroll of invisibility and whispered the incantation. Then she stepped onto the bridge.

She knew it wasn't going to work almost as soon as her foot hit the bridge with a loud clunk. The old metal echoed with every step. The man whirled round and shouted a spell. A skeleton sprung into existence next to him. There was nothing for it. She ran. She very nearly made it too.

As she ducked past the man, he flailed and hit her shoulder, sending her flying to the ground, suddenly visible. Both he and the skeleton rounded on her. She rolled, pulling her spear from her back as she did so, swiping at the skeleton's legs. It went down and shattered on the floor, but the man shot a frost spell at her. The spell hit her stomach and burned cold. She screamed in pain. It was all her assailant needed. He grasped her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. Up close he looked quite insane, his snowy hair askew, his eyes rolling in their sockets. She was choking, her hands opening and shutting uselessly. She couldn't reach her amulets.

Adrenaline kicked in suddenly, not a moment too late. She head-butted him and he dropped her in shock. She grabbed her spear and thrust forward, catching him in the throat. He gurgled, eyes wide. She drove back and back until he was pressed against the side of the bridge. Then he was over and falling. Gone. And she'd killed another man.

Llovesi took several deep breaths but she was badly shaken. She downed a healing potion and the pain of the frost spell subsided. She continued up to the ruins that she could now see. Rising from the dark grey hills were golden, bell shaped towers, leaning this way and that, with spires and statues among them. She found a crank on a pipe and turned it. The ancient parts moved easily, as if they had been recently oiled. Her apprehension rose.

Sure enough, when she crept through the rotating door she could hear voices echoing up from the deep cavern below.

"Pass us the shein, Frink. Frink! By Oblivion, you're dafter than old Snowy!" She heard the chink of glasses and the two men laughing together.

"Boy am I glad Crito's got him on guard duty now. Eyes more wrong than a scamp in a skirt!"

_Better to sneak up on them while they're distracted._ Gripping her spear, she steeled herself, then clambered down the rocky formation. She could see the men sitting on the lower floor of a gallery set into the stone wall, a stocky Redguard and rough-looking Imperial. Suddenly one of them got up and drew his sword and motioned silently to the other. They must've heard her. It was the bridge all over again.

She jumped out and yelled, hoping to shock them, but it didn't seem to faze them in the slightest. They circled her then attacked. There was nothing she could do, she felt panic rising and coursing through her veins, tapping into her default response. She knew she wouldn't be able to control it and she let it happen. She exploded.

Well, that wasn't strictly the case. But to a casual observer it's what it would have looked like. Llovesi was consumed in a white-hot ball of fire, which grew and burst, sending the bandits flying, charred and screaming. It was magicka, pure and untapped, directed into a destructive force, bolstered by the frost spell that had hit her on the bridge. The ancient metal buckled under the heat. Sweat beaded on Llovesi's forehead, blinding her vision until all she could see was fire and ash. Then it burnt her out and she dropped to all fours, panting, dropping the fire shield she'd thrown up.

There was no time for fear or panic, yet fear and panic fought to claim her. She could feel the memory of the last time this had happened threatening to swallow her up in darkness. She struggled against it. This time they had deserved it. _You still couldn't control it_, she told herself angrily. But there was no time for this. She could hear a voice.

"Frink? Surus? What in Oblivion is going on down there? I heard an explosion! If you've been messing around with the machinery down there, so help me..."

It was coming from above. She jumped and pulled herself to the upper level, wincing as her fingers grasped red-hot metal. At least being a Dunmer she wouldn't be badly burned. Blood ran down her face from a cut on her scalp and she spat it out of her mouth, grunting with the effort. She rolled onto the floor and saw a round metal door kicked open out of the corner of her eye.

"Well, well, well. Looks like we've got ourselves an intruder." It was another Imperial, bald and heavy-set. He lunged at her with a mace held aloft.

She summoned her last bit of strength and rolled again, swiping at his legs with her spear as he passed. She expected to feel his mace, steeled herself for the crunch of pain, but he skidded past her. He'd slipped in her blood. He grasped at the edge of the gallery but missed and disappeared over the edge. Llovesi heard a sickening thud. She peered over. He'd landed awkwardly, his head at an odd angle. Dead.

Llovesi sat on the cooling metal for a long time, huddled in a ball, dry sobs racking her body. Then something stirred inside her, some new determination. The fear wasn't going to go away, but she could toughen up against it. She pushed herself to her feet and with shaking hands wiped her eyes and drank another healing potion. She felt the wound on her head, and multiple others, seal themselves. Then she limped into the room that the deceased man had occupied. He had clearly been the leader; he had money piled on his desk plus a few choice treasures. Well, there was no pride in dungeon delving. Llovesi swept the lot into her satchel then examined the shelves.

There it was. A small cube, just as Hasphat had described it. She picked it up, examined it. "Well. All this trouble for such a small thing. This information had better be stellar," she remarked. Then she squeezed her amulet of Almsivi Intervention and disappeared.

* * *

The sky was darkening when Llovesi reappeared in the courtyard of the Balmora Temple so she returned to her room at the Eight Plates. She had a restless sleep filled with dreams of flames and woke early to head over to the Fighters Guild.

Hasphat was sparring on a mat when she walked in. He caught sight of her and dismissed his opponent: "At ease, Anurel." The young Bosmer sauntered off.

He looked Llovesi up and down again and whistled. "Phew. You've been in the wars."

Her clothes were ripped and burned in new places and she was still grimy, though she'd washed the blood off.

"Arkngthand wasn't quite as empty as you thought."

"Well, you survived didn't you? Did you get it?"

She retrieved the cube from her pack and passed it to him.

"Perfect. Just what I was looking for. Now what does old Caius want to know?"

"He wants to know about the Nerevarine Cult and the Sixth House Cult."

"Okay. Let's sit down." He directed her to a table in the corner of the room with papers and books piled on it. He grabbed a sheaf of parchment, a quill and began to write, talking as he did.

"I should say right now that I know very little about the Nerevarine Cult, or at least I know the same amount as everyone else. Ashland prophecy, great hero Nerevar reincarnated to overthrow the Temple and drive the Empire from Morrowind and unite the Dunmer once more. Idea being that the Tribunal are false Gods who betrayed the province. Obviously the Temple are not keen on such 'heresy'. Nerevar is a Saint but the idea that his reincarnation is their undoing doesn't go down well. Tell Caius that Sharn gra-Muzgob at the Mages Guild is a better person for native faiths and local superstitions.

"Now the Sixth House. You're aware of the five great Houses, yes?" He counted them on his fingers as he listed them. "Hlaalu, Redoran, Telvanni, Indoril, Dres. There are also historical houses that are now defunct. House Dagoth was one of these, the Sixth House, the 'lost' House. Nothing remains of it now, following the treason in the War of the First Council. You can read about this in a number of cheap books, I'll write a reference list. Their clanstead, Kogoruhn, still stands but it's long been abandoned.

"Dagoth Ur was the leader of the house. The Temple claim that he's still alive, dwelling in the middle of Red Mountain, plotting and biding his time. On this point I'm inclined to believe them. The Blight that spews from that volcano has to be caused by something, as do these recent bouts of soul sickness.

"I've heard something about a secret cult worshipping Dagoth Ur. The cult plans to destroy the Temple and drive all outlanders from Morrowind. The cult is outlawed by the Temple, the Great Houses, and the Empire, and I doubt it's very popular. I've also heard there's some connection with smuggling... that they smuggle goods, or hire smugglers, or something like that."

Llovesi listened, absorbing the new information in silence. When Hasphat finished, she turned it over in her head thinking about what she had heard.

"It doesn't sound like there's much to choose from between these two cults. Destroy the Temple, get rid of the outlanders etcetera, etcetera," she said.

"It's true that the aims sound the same, but I think the intent behind them is what's important. A Morrowind under Dagoth Ur would be a very bad thing indeed. But good question. It's important to engage with events, rather than letting them fly over your head."

He pulled a book out from the pile on the table. "I hadn't forgotten. You asked for a history lesson, so here's a history book. _On Morrowind_. Caius and I always argue about the role of the individual in history. I believe that exceptional individuals can make a difference; Caius believes great heroes are a product of their time. There's a great quotation from Zurin Arctus about this but I can never remember it. But poor Caius, he's grown so jaded. The Empire keep sending heroes out to the provinces, but the fools are just too ignorant and uninterested in the events they're taking part in."

He drummed his fingers on the table and looked at keenly.

"So Caius sends you to me. Interesting." The way he said the word reminded Llovesi of an elderly Breton, almost three months ago. "Listen. When we understand the events that occur to us, the events become history. History is understanding. Otherwise we're all just dumb animals trying to get in out of the cold."

With that pronouncement he stood up, leaving Llovesi with the notes, the book and plenty to think about.

* * *

Llovesi took the notes and read them over as she left the guild. Then she stopped by Dorisa Darvel's bookshop to pick up the books Hasphat had suggested. She sat by the riverside, enjoying what would probably be one of the last nice days of the year, watching canal boats go past, and reading. The sun was crisp and faintly warm, but aside from the activity on the river, the town was strangely quiet. Llovesi couldn't hear any children playing. She shrugged off the feeling of unease and turned back to the books.

They all recounted a similar story. Religious disputes, Houses Dagoth and Dwemer on one side, the other Houses united under Nerevar on the other. Big battle at Red Mountain but Nerevar dies. House Dagoth disbanded, the Dwemer disappear shortly after and the rise of the Tribunal. _This all happened hundreds of years ago, but the island is still in its shadow._

She read each book cover to cover, not having read any First Era history yet. Then she took brief notes from each one, got up, shaking the cramp from her legs, and crossed the river to Caius's apartment.

* * *

Caius took the notes and looked them over briskly. "Excellent work, Llovesi."

"I'm afraid he didn't have much to say about the Nerevarine cult. He suggested you ask Sharn gra-Muzgob."

"Is that so?" He placed the notes on the table and took the books Llovesi offered him. "In that case hop over to the Mages Guild and ask Sharn what she knows. I'll look these over while you're gone. Again, she'll probably have some silly task she wants you to do. Just get the information and report back."

Llovesi had hoped that Caius wouldn't ask her to go to Sharn, but she had expected it. She walked across town to the Mages Guild. Once, the tangible crackle of magical activity in the air would have brought her to her knees but now it just made her faintly uneasy. A passing Bosmer in a flowing robe directed her downstairs to Sharn. "Be careful," she murmured.

Llovesi understood the warning when Sharn came into sight. The Orc was scribbling heavily on a piece of parchment, her features contorted into an ugly scowl. She looked up as Llovesi approached.

"GO AWAY!" she yelled. "I cannot THINK with these CONSTANT interruptions!"

Llovesi jumped back, startled. The other mages looked round but turned back to what they were doing. It seemed Sharn's temper was common knowledge.

"Caius sent me." Llovesi said in a small voice.

The Orc's expression changed almost instantly. Her grin was somehow more terrifying than her scowl.

"Caius? You're one of Caius's associates? That is an entirely different matter. Please do sit down."

Llovesi took the proffered seat cautiously.

"He wants to know about the Nerevarine Cult."

"Information you want is it? Caius and I have a very satisfactory agreement. I'm sure we can come to some arrangement too, if you complete a little errand for me."

_Here we go._ "What is it?" Llovesi asked.

"Oh, very simple. I need the skull of Llevule Andrano. You'll find it in Andrano Ancestral Tomb. You'll recognise it by the ritual markings. But take care not to upset the natives. The Dunmer have some peculiar primitive prejudices against necromancy, and take grave objection to unauthorised tomb visits."

Llovesi balked. Sure necromancy was legal back in Cyrodiil, but she had become accustomed to the local Dunmer's veneration for the dead and the idea of raiding a tomb didn't exactly fill her with joy. Still, needs must.

"Where is this tomb?"

"You got a map? Let me mark it on there for you. It's near Pelagiad, so about a day's walk. It's a recently chartered town so not on any silt strider routes, I'm afraid. Do hurry back."

Seeing no sense in dawdling Llovesi set off immediately. Sharn had given her a fireblade to deal with any 'problems', but she didn't need a great imagination to guess what might be guarding an ancestral tomb. With her thoughts full of ghosts and skeletons she was unable to continue to enjoy the walk as she marched briskly south. Which was a shame, really, because the Ascadian Isles were beautiful.

Giant mushrooms parasols inclined gracefully above the hills, casting swaths of shade over the bright coloured flowers that dotted the grass. The trees were losing their foliage and great piles of golden and brown leaves carpeted the cobblestone road.

Masser and Secunda were bright in the sky when Llovesi reached Pelagiad so she paid for a room at the Halfway Inn. She didn't sleep well.

She was walking through a grand banquet hall when a tall man took her hand. He was wearing a golden mask and she felt that he was smiling, but something about him filled her with horror and she tried to pull away. But her hand was fixed to his. He led her through the hall merrily as if it were a celebration, but when she looked around all the guests were dead. Their eyes stared blankly as their wounds oozed and their heads lolled, but the tall masked figure stopped and spoke to each one, laughing and joking. And suddenly she realised that the hall wasn't grand at all but dusty and decrepit, and the food on the table had all rotted away. She could hear whispers but no one else was speaking. Llovesi realised that she wasnt breathing either. She strained and strained but the feeling of compression only pressed harder on her chest. She opened her mouth to scream but her tongue flapped uselessly against the roof of her mouth. But someone was screaming, weren't they? As she managed to rip herself from sleep she realised that it was her.

She sat bolt upright in bed drenched in a cold sweat. She became certain that someone was in the room with her, so she lit a candle and searched high and low, but it revealed only shadows. She sat down again and laughed shakily.

"Guess I'm more nervous about this tomb than I thought!"

But she couldn't convince herself, and her voice echoed horribly in the room. She'd never had a dream like that before. Sleep had escaped her for the rest of the night, so she read in bed, jumping at every creak of the floorboards or shout from the street below.

When morning came she was exhausted and grumpy. Resolved to get the task over with as quickly as possible, she jogged all the way to the tomb.

All hopes of being able to dash through the tomb to find the skull quickly were lost when she made it to the first chamber. A spectre was hovering over a recent unlucky victim. It saw her and swooped towards her, shrieking. She brandished the fireblade in front of her. The blade passed right through the ghost, but to her astonishment, fire bloomed within it, and it turned to ectoplasm with a howl.

She crept through the rest of the tomb, dispatching the other guardians as she went. She checked each ash pit she passed for skulls but none had any distinguishing features. Besides, she was certain she could hear a ghostly whispering, as if ancestor spirits were wondering at her presence. Whatever it was, it was unnerving and she didn't linger.

After wandering for what felt like hours, and probably in circles, Llovesi found an ash pit she was certain she hadn't seen before. Sure enough, in the centre was a skull, marked with Daedric letters and carvings. Trying to avoid the feeling she was being judged, she picked it up and wrapped it in a piece of cloth before placing it in her satchel.

She walked briskly back to Balmora, but it still took her most of the day. As she was about to cross into the foyada, she saw a Dunmer figure standing in the road. He was half naked, dressed only in brown pants. Something about him made the hairs on the back of Llovesi's neck stand on end. She changed direction and scrambled over the hills to get to Balmora. Deciding to drop in and see Sharn before she went to bed, she walked towards the Mages Guild, the strange sight forgotten.

Most of the mages were leaving the guild, others were making their way to a communal dormitory, but Sharn was sitting patiently at her desk.

"I have been eagerly awaiting your return. You have it?"

Llovesi passed the wrapped skull over. Sharn peeked at it eagerly and then stashed it in her robe. "Very good. Perfect for what I have in mind. Thank you. Now. As I promised. I'll answer your questions on the Nerevarine cult."

Like Hasphat had down, she took a piece of parchment and wrote rapid notes as they talked.

"This Ashlander cult believes the long-dead hero Nerevar will be reborn to honour ancient promises to the tribes. According to legend, the prophesied Nerevarine will cast down the false Gods of the Tribunal Temple, restore the traditional ancestor worship practiced by the Ashlanders, and drive all outlanders from Morrowind.

"Both Temple and Empire outlaw the cult, but it persists among the Ashlanders, who care little for Imperial or Temple law. The Temple tries to dismiss it as primitive superstition, but they spend an awful lot of time talking about something so apparently inconsequential, and persecuting those who declare to be the Incarnate. Yes, there have been more than one.

"Ashlander culture honours dream visions and prophecy and wise women interpret dreams and visions, and pass them on to succeeding generations. The most common version of the Nerevarine Prophecy is 'The Stranger'. I'll write the verses I know from memory. There are two interesting points to note. One is the reference to moon-and-star. Did you know that Nerevar was known to possess a magical ring named 'One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star.' Nerevar swore his promise to honour ancient Ashlander traditions and land rights on this magical ring. The second is the reference to 'Seven Curses', which is almost certainly a lost prophecy. There are others too: Seven Visions of Seven Trials of the Incarnate is known by name only and there may be more. Is there anything else you want to know?"

Llovesi licked her lips nervously. "This Temple persecution – how likely is it Caius and I will get into trouble? Can you get in trouble just for asking questions?"

The Orc laughed roughly. "What do you think? Their zeal is only matched by their brutality. I'm not one of their biggest fans, as you might be able to tell. You tell old Caius to keep his head down, and his inquiries close to the ground. The ones who have the most to fear are those who declare themselves to be the Nerevarine. The Temple refers to them as 'False Incarnates' and pursues them 'for their own protection'. They claim the latest Incarnate, a girl called Peakstar has died, but they've produced no evidence."

Llovesi went to rent her customary room at the Eight Plates, brooding over what she had learnt.

Before she settled into bed, she unrolled the parchment Sharn had given her, and read 'The Stranger' out loud:

"_THE STRANGER_

_When earth is sundered, and skies choked black,_

_And sleepers serve the seven curses,_

_To the hearth there comes a stranger,_

_Journeyed far 'neath moon and star._

_Though stark-born to sire uncertain_

_His aspect marks his certain fate_

_Wicked stalk him, righteous curse him._

_Prophets speak, but all deny._

_Many trials make manifest_

_The stranger's fate, the curses' bane._

_Many touchstones try the stranger_

_Many fall, but one remains._"


	7. Ashlands

_**Chapter 6: Ashlands**_

Caius was very pleased with the notes Llovesi brought him. "This is excellent work Apprentice, very efficient. And that's right, I'm promoting you. Now give me some time to think how this fits in with the Emperor's plan. I don't have anything for you in the meantime, so go train, or do some work or something. Report back in a few weeks time. Promptly this time please."

Llovesi left, feeling relieved. She wasn't sure if she enjoyed being used as a bargaining chip to gain information, but on the plus side it had been interesting. Why on Earth was the Emperor interested in these Dunmer cults anyway? _Probably so he can suppress the threat,_ she thought bitterly. Never mind. She could go back to Ebonheart now, see Clause and- _oh Divines! Clause!_

Llovesi's mouth dropped open. She had completely forgotten to get a message to Clause! What was she going to tell him now anyway? She had no good excuse for why she had disappeared for the best part of a week that didn't compromise the Blades.

She ran to the Mages Guild, willing to put up with the nausea that the guild guide transport gave her if it got her to Ebonheart a little faster.

An hour later, aboard the boat for Ebonheart, she relaxed, She was being silly. Of course he wouldn't be angry. She was overreacting. Nevertheless, when the boat moored in the harbour she quickened her pace to the Chapels. She burst through the door slightly breathless.

"Kaye, have you seen Clause?"

The Redguard man looked up in surprise. "Llovesi? You're back? Clause left for missionary work in Ald'ruhn yesterday. I have a task for you."

_By the Nine, I haven't missed their pushiness._ "Yes, yes, what is it?"

"An Argonian named Okur in Hla Oad has asked for our aid. This devout follower of the Nine is sensitive to spirits of the otherworld, and she says she is being visited by the ghost of a murder victim. The guards can't do anything in such cases. Go and speak with Okur. Here's some gold for expenses. If possible, discover the nature of the crime, and bring justice to wronged spirit so it can be laid to rest."

Llovesi practically snatched the coin purse out of his hand. "Sure... uh, was Clause annoyed?"

Kaye seemed taken aback. "Now that you mention it he did seem quite angry about something. I hope everything is all right between the two of you? Wouldn't want it to impinge on your duty to the cult."

"I'm sure it won't. Bye."

Llovesi sprinted back to the docks. She jumped aboard the Chun-Ook.

"Take-take me to Vivec," she panted.

"I'm not scheduled to sail for another hour." Nevosi peered at her. "Hang on, Llovesi? Didn't you just arrive?"

Llovesi was rapidly losing patience. "This coin purse says you'll take me now." She brandished the money that Kaye had just given her.

"If you insist. It's your money, sera."

* * *

Llovesi was more than a little bit tired when she reached Ald'ruhn. She'd sprinted up the Foreign Quarter, past disgruntled Ordinators and surprised tourists, then run through the Mages Guild to the guild guide. Now she was jogging to Fort Buckmoth as fast as her weary legs would take her. She entered the fort and pushed past guards to the Imperial Shrine.

"Syloria, have you seen Clause?"

The trader looked up, but before she could reply Llovesi heard a cold voice over her shoulder. "So, here you are."

Llovesi whipped round. Clause was there, potions in his arms, watching her with hostility in his eyes.

"Your potions, Syloria," he said, dumping them on the table. "Llovesi, can we talk? Outside."

They left a bemused Syloria, and walked outside to a balcony overlooking the courtyard where soldiers were training below. She didn't want to look at Clause's face, mainly out of a selfish desire not to feel guilt at his expression but partly because she didn't want to know just how hurt he was.

Clause sighed deeply, and Llovesi turned to face him. She couldn't read his face, but the hand he ran through his hair suggested frustration. "It's good to see you." _Sigh._ "Now, are you going to tell me why you disappeared for a week without saying goodbye, or where you were going?"

"I wanted to say goodbye, but it was urgent. I came to see you but you were arguing with Ren."

"Ren? Oh my sister. I should've known, she always manages to get in the way somehow. But you're avoiding the main question. Where were you? I searched everywhere. You didn't even leave a note."

Llovesi struggled, but her mind was driven blank. Besides she didn't think she could lie to Clause, even though the alternative was impossible.

"I-I can't say."

Clause inclined his head as if he'd reached an understanding. When he spoke again his voice had regained its frosty tones. "There's someone else, isn't there?"

Llovesi was gobsmacked. "What? No! Don't be ridiculous. I've only lived on Vvardenfell for three months, and I've been with you for two of them!"

"You'll forgive my suspicion then. But even so, it's just not safe for you to go wandering off alone, without telling anyone!"

Llovesi was getting cross now. He was talking to her like a child. A naughty, untrustworthy child. What had she seen in this man?

"You know," she said, "it's also been two months since you found me in the dust and I'm more than capable of taking care of myself now. I don't need you."

"Llovesi, I know. It's just, well, I really liked you and I put a lot into helping you. It just feels like it's been thrown back into my face a bit. Godammit Llovesi, if you can't tell me where you've been, I can't trust you. If I can't trust my girlfriend, who can I trust on this oppressive island? Look, I know it's not been a long time but, maybe we should go on a break for a bit. Spend some time apart. If you don't need me." He started off hesitant but his tone grew firmer, more spiteful. "In fact, let's start right now. You should go back to Ebonheart and I'll stay here."

"You don't get to say where I can go!"

Clause just looked at her. "I'm going to get on with my duties, Llovesi. Good bye."

Llovesi wanted to scream at the sky, but aware of the attention she had already drawn below she stamped her foot in frustration instead. Was this what it was going to be like? Called away at a whim and for how long? Would she ever be able to hold down a relationship? Furious with herself for being unable to reassure Clause, for letting him slip away, furious because she knew their fight was mostly her fault, her carelessness, she strode back through the fort towards Ald'ruhn, her cloak flying out behind her.

* * *

She was marching back to Ald'ruhn when she almost smacked straight into a woman. Llovesi blinked, wondering if the woman wasn't an anger-fuelled figment of her imagination. She certainly looked ghastly.

Dressed in exquisite clothes, her bright red hair was slicked back, and her face, not old but marred with frown lines, was set in a grimace of determination, accentuated by the thick layers of make-up. It all had the affect of making her appear to be a rather garish waxen doll. She confirmed her reality by stepping forward as Llovesi stepped back, snapping her fingers briskly in Llovesi's face.

"You there! You'll do in a pinch!"

"Who are you?" Llovesi asked. She almost asked 'what'.

"Viatrix Petilia. Lady Viatrix Petilia to you," she said, practically sneering as she looked Llovesi up and down, adjusting her silken gloves as she did. "I'm in need of an escort. I want to get to Ghostgate Shrine."

Llovesi made a snap decision. Where had she been going before anyway? What she needed was a good walk to clear her head. And this woman was annoying and rude enough to draw her anger away from herself and what had happened. Besides, she knew where Ghostgate was. Hadn't she delivered a shipment of potions there once with Cla-_Stop that thought._

"Sure. Let's go." She pushed past the wealthy pilgrim, who looked momentarily nonplussed, and set off back the way she had come, past the fort this time.

* * *

Half an hour later, and Llovesi was deeply regretting her decision. The woman was beyond annoying. Surely she was a Daedra, sent by Sheogorath to slowly drive her mad? She strode purposefully ahead, spearing Cliff Racers that got too close, trying to ignore the woman's shrieking.

"Slow down at once!"

"Wait for me!"

"Ugh, these beasts are disgusting!"

"Is this the only path? I'm getting ash all over my best skirt!"

Suddenly Llovesi had had enough. She stopped so that that it was Viatrix's turn to nearly slam into her.

"Why on Nirn have you stopped? I demand you take me to Ghostgate immediately!" the woman spat.

Llovesi turned and, using her height to its fullest advantage, leant down into the woman's face. "Have you maybe considered, _Lady_ Viatrix, that your incessant moaning is what's drawing all the creatures to us?"

Viatrix trembled indignantly. "How dare you! I shall- I shall dock your fee! Now hurry up, I need to be there within the next day and a half!"

"What do you want me to do, slow down or speed up?" Llovesi grumbled, but turned back and continued along the path.

Her thoughts drifted inevitably back to the argument with Clause. Was it normal, to fly off the handle after a week's separation? How was she meant to know? _No_, she thought bitterly, _of course it's not normal. At the end of the day, I was just another healing project to him. He didn't see me as a person, just a lost little pet._

Suddenly, rising out of the hills in front of them, there it was: The Ghostfence. The magical forcefield created by the Tribunal to keep Vvardenfell protected from the Blight. It climbed impossibly high into the sky, stretching into the clouds, humming and shimmering almost imperceptibly. The land within was barely perceptible as well, clouded red with the Blight. Llovesi, forgetting her anger and bitterness, watched it a moment while Viatrix jogged, panting, to catch up with her, and she was glad that it was still keeping Vvardenfell relatively safe. She watched a rat on the inside sniff the fence.

Suddenly something very strange happened. The rat placed a paw on the fence and a hole appeared. It pushed its snout into the hole, widening it, and then suddenly it was through. Llovesi reacted almost immediately, fighting reflexes honed by travel on the roads; she gripped her spear and thrust it down, impaling the rat. Both she and Viatrix exchanged a confused look. _That can't have happened. The Ghostfence is supposed to be impenetrable._

Then the moment was gone and Viatrix was prodding Llovesi to get her moving. Thank the Divines the appearance of the Ghostfence meant they were nearly there. The path was sloping down now, and Llovesi had to resist the urge to sprint. The sooner she could get rid of this annoying woman the better.

As they neared the Ghostgate, a sudden howling reached them on the wind. Llovesi flinched and stared upwards out of habit but the skies were clear. So not an incoming ash storm then. She pulled her spear from behind her back as they rounded the corner. There was a flash of bright light. And several more. Then she saw what was causing them.

A young Dunmer, who had clearly just cast the spells, was on the ground, kicking to move backwards as he fitted an arrow to his bow with trembling fingers. Three Clannfear surrounded him. It looked like the spells had temporarily blown them back, but they had clearly already injured him as Llovesi could make out blood pooling round his right leg. Now they were circling him. Playing with him.

Llovesi hated Clannfear. She hated all the Daedra she had come across. Mostly they were stupid and vicious, but a few were intelligent enough to be real threats. Clannfear were among these. Now she knew that if she didn't help the young man they would surely kill him. Slowly and painfully, for their own amusement. As she made her decision to run, a Clannfear sprang forward and swiped at his side, cutting through his leather armour as if it were mud. Fresh blood spurted from the wound.

Llovesi raised her spear to waist level and charged, yelling as she went, ignoring Viatrix's screams behind her.

It worked, mostly. She caught the first Clannfear and, flipping it, impaled it through its soft underbelly. Then another one launched itself at her, ripping through the back of her leather armour as easily as it had the man's. Pain like fire tore through her back and she yelled, but suddenly the Clannfear fell. It lay twitching on the ground, an arrow sticking from its neck. The Dunmer had pulled himself up and was still holding his bow in shooting position. He pulled another arrow from his quiver, his eyes clouded, his long dark hair falling in his face and his expression set.

The last Clannfear was rounding on them now. It seemed hesitant, perhaps recognising how the tables had been turned. Llovesi could feel the blood sticking her robe to her back, accompanied by a deep throbbing, and knew she didn't want it to get any closer. She pulled a scroll of hellfire from her pack and read it at top speed. A ball of fire hurtled towards the Daedra; it was consumed before it could move. The dust settled, and Llovesi turned to face the man she had rescued. The battle was over.

"Greetings, outlander." The man's voice was haggard, as if he was having trouble speaking. He holstered his bow and grasped his arm, wincing. "I suppose I should thank you for your help with those Clannfear, although I never asked for it. I was quite capable of taking care of them. You didn't have to interrupt." He was beginning to sway.

Llovesi was gobsmacked, and for a strange moment didn't know whether to laugh or be annoyed. The man was being patently ridiculous, and she was almost used to a lack of gratitude now. Her previous anger hadn't quite abated though, so she lashed out.

"Oh, I'm sure you were! That's why you're bleeding all over the place. I mean, look at your wounds for Divines' sake!" she snapped.

The man leant against a nearby rock, panting. "Haha!" he laughed weakly. "I'll, I'll have you know I was just... playing with them! Working on my fighting skills. Then you come blundering in, playing the hero and ruin everything. Just stay out of it in future all right? Haha. And, and you're bleeding too. So don't go lecturing me, outlander!"

Llovesi gaped at him. Viatrix came walking over briskly, now that the danger had passed.

"Well, are you going to spend all day conversing with this _savage_ or are we going to get going?"

That was the final straw. Between the stubborn Dunmer and the rude pilgrim, Llovesi felt like smashing her head against the nearest wall.

"Just, SHUT UP! Can't you see he's wounded? You selfish woman! Anyway, I've brought you here, haven't I? Go away!"

The woman's eyes couldn't have got wider if she'd caught Llovesi parading naked through Ald'ruhn.

"Well I never. Clearly, outlander, you are too ignorant to know that the Ghostgate Shrine lies _within_ the Ghostfence. No matter, I think I'll take my leave of your presence. Don't think I'll be paying you anything either! Hmph!" She adjusted her clothing fussily and strode away.

Llovesi limped over to the Dunmer until she was next to him. Clearly he had a bit of an issue with pride. Well, she could work with that. She'd been sent to heal stubborn Dunmer in the past few months. And there was no point being angry, not with him. It wasn't his fault.

"So, where were we? Ah yes, I'm bleeding." She reached into her pack and pulled out a healing potion, moving with deliberate slowness. She uncorked it carefully, noting how his eyes followed her hands.

"So, I think I'll just have a bit of this healing potion." She took a mouthful, feeling the wounds on her back lace up slightly. _That should do it._ "I don't suppose you want any? See how you're busy working on your 'bleeding to death' skills."

The Dunmer shifted slightly against his rock. "Well..."

"Yes?"

"Okay, wait, please. I apologise. I am glad that you arrived when you did. You probably did save my life."

"Probably?" she repeated, teasing it out of him.

"Oh all right! You definitely saved my life! I'm eternally grateful! Happy now?" he snapped, and Llovesi was relieved that he had enough energy to do so. "Uh... if I could have the rest of that potion I _would_ be very grateful," he continued. "I seem to have run out of potions, And magicka. And... well, most things really."

Llovesi smiled, and handed it over. "I've got another one in here. You'll probably need it."

The man gulped both potions down eagerly.

"Ah, thank you, outlander. This is really very embarrassing. I'm actually trying to become a strong warrior. It's expected of me, but it seems I still have a long way to go." He seemed almost close to tears, and Llovesi found herself taking pity on him, even though she couldn't really empathise with his burden of expectation.

"It's okay, these things take time."

"It's not really okay. I mean, I've taken so much time already. And now this. What would my tribe think if they knew I'd been saved by an outlander? AN OUTLANDER for Azura's sake!" he shouted suddenly, and Llovesi winced. It still hurt to have the insult thrown at her, a constant reminder that she might never fit in.

Perhaps her expression communicated some of this to him, for he looked apologetic again. "I'm sorry, no offense intended, but it looks bad."

Llovesi folded her arms. "Okay, insult aside, it's not that bad, I promise. There were three of them and they were tough. A few weeks ago I would have been even worse off than you are now."

"Thanks. But you don't understand. How could you? You have no idea who I am and what I have to do, or why."

"So tell me. Come on, try me."

He just shook his head in frustration. "It's not that simple. I'm not really free to discuss it. I have a sacred mission to complete within the Ghostfence on the behalf of my tribe and a lot of other people. But I've been here for a week and I can't even deal with the monsters on this side of the fence. How am I going to cope inside?"

This Llovesi had sympathy with. Feeling weak was a barrier she had had to overcome, hells, was still overcoming. "Well, if it's a sacred mission, shouldn't the Gods protect you?"

"Ha," he laughed bitterly. "That's what my mother says. She has this incredible faith in the Gods... and in me. I have to succeed; I can't stand the thought of her disappointment. But I'm not sure I share her faith. Maybe that's the problem." He looked down despondently, then jerked his head back up. "By Azura, I'm being really rude, aren't I? Standing here talking about myself and I haven't even asked your name. Gah!"

Llovesi had to resist the urge to burst out laughing. "It's Llovesi. So, you're an Ashlander then?" She'd never met an Ashlander before. She wondered if they were all this bumbling, proud and cagey.

"Yes I am. Are you some sort of freelance adventurer?"

"Er." Llovesi wasn't sure what she would call herself. "I guess I am."

"Well you're certainly stronger than me."

_That's probably stretching the definition of strength_, Llovesi thought.

The man hesitated. "Llovesi... would you ever go inside the Ghostfence?"

The question threw Llovesi a bit. Red Mountain - that was where the Blight came from, where the worst Blight disease Corprus had turned men into monsters, where other... creatures wandered in the gloom. The honest answer was 'hells no', but she rather felt the man was building a flattering image of her and she didn't want to dismantle it. "Maybe. If I had to," she said cautiously.

"I knew it. Llovesi," and again he hesitated for a long time, "would you consider, maybe, training me? Helping me to develop my skills. I wouldn't be a burden," he added quickly. "I mean if you let me travel with you. I can cast magic, repair weapons, all sorts of useful things." He looked at her anxiously. "So what do you say?"

Llovesi considered. On the one hand, she probably had nothing to teach him. Hells, she was still learning herself. But on the other, a constant companion would make Vvardenfell just a little less lonely. After she'd so rudely lost a friend, maybe a new friend would do some good. Maybe she could learn more about the native Dunmer. He seemed nice as well, if a little proud and foolish. She was under no illusion: she had her own faults as well. He was hiding something too, so they both had their secrets. Maybe it could work.

"Okay. But I don't know how good a teacher I'll be. You're welcome to tag along at any rate."

"Thank you. If my tribe knew they'd be horrified but I don't see any other way. I need guidance and you're actually the first person who's stopped to help me. Those guys up there," he said, pointing, and Llovesi noticed two figures crouched by a campfire on the hill. "I'm pretty sure they've actually been laughing at me. And gah! I'm an idiot! I've forgotten to introduce myself! I'm Julan Kaushibael." He stuck his hand out. Llovesi took it, smiling, her black mood a thing of the past.

"Julan... Kaushibael?"

"Yes, that's right, it's not that hard to pronounce you know. Hearthfriend of the Ahemmusa, well... sort of, I'm actually an outcast. It's complicated. So reckon we'll be a good team?"

"I reckon so."

"Great. Well, I'll go with you wherever, I don't know Vvardenfell well, in fact, this is the furthest I've been from home. Since we're here... can we try going inside? Not far," he added hastily, "I just want to get a feel for it."

"Uh sure, I guess." Llovesi pressed her hand against the triangle switch on the plinth nearby, as Viatrix had done. The barred gate creaked up slowly. Julan dashed forward to the stone hallway.

"We'd better shut this, wouldn't want anything to escape," he said. Llovesi watched the way out creak down behind them, and the way in front open up into swirling red mist. "Right then," Julan said. "Er, ladies first." Llovesi rustled in her pack to find her protective chitin helmet with the built-in goggles. She didn't fancy letting this ash anywhere near her face.

But she had barely made it a foot inside the Ghostfence when she heard Julan calling behind her from the mouth of the tunnel.

"Llovesi! Llovesi! I'm sorry, I can't do this! I thought I was ready, but I'm not!"

She went back to him to see that his eyes were wide with panic. He grasped her elbows. "Can I please cast Almsivi Intervention and get us out of here? I'll let you know when I feel ready to come back!"

Llovesi nodded, and coughing, Julan pulled them both through space in a flash of light.

* * *

They materialised in front of the Ald'ruhn Temple. Julan leant against the curved wall of the courtyard, breathing hard.

"I'm, I'm sorry for what happened back there. Gods, you must think I'm an utter coward. I'm not; I've never run from a fight, I do not fear death. It's not the ash monsters that bother me, but the mountain itself I guess... I don't know. It's all to do with these weird dreams I've been having..."

This piqued Llovesi's interest, both because she hadn't forgotten her own strange dream, although it hadn't repeated itself, and because of what she had been hearing about 'soul sickness'.

"Perhaps we shouldn't talk about this right outside the Temple, but what weird dreams?" she asked.

"Point taken, let's walk."

They set off into the afternoon crowd.

"I have this dream that I'm climbing Red Mountain. It's dark, because I'm in the middle of an ash storm. It's getting into my eyes, my mouth, up my nose and all I can see is this red ash. It gets harder and harder to keep moving. And there're these voices surrounding me whispering... things."

"What kind of things?" Llovesi asked.

"I don't know, I can never make it out. But not good. You've heard of Dagoth Ur? Even an outlander must have... He makes people insane by sending them dreams..."

"Whoa, Julan. Not going to go crazy on me are you?" Llovesi joked.

"No! I'm not insane, and I'm not planning on becoming insane! Dagoth Ur is a powerful figure in our history and our legends. Lots of people dream about him..."

"But these dreams are bothering you so much you can't even set foot on Red Mountain?"

"They aren't, I mean, they won't. Actually, I'm not sure I want to talk about it. I need time. Can we work on my training?"

"Sure, okay." They had reached the lower part of town. "So, what kind of training do you want?"

"Well, I've been doing archery all my life so I doubt there's anything you could teach me there. Apart from that, well, anything really. I could just use more experience. Maybe work on magic, or other weapons."

"Well, I'm no mage," Llovesi said hastily. "Maybe we could work on that together." Even as she said it her heart twinged at the memory of how she and Clause had worked on her magical skills together.

"But I could work on sword-fighting with you," she said, forcing her mind back to the present. "Why don't we go over to the Fighters Guild?"

"Sure. Fighters, they're okay. As long as they don't try to talk to you about their daring exploits. In fact, as long as they don't talk at all."

So they set off for the Fighters Guild, Llovesi feeling that her day had brightened considerably.


	8. The Big City

_**Chapter 7: The Big City**_

They visited the Guild but it turned out that, due to difficulties with the Blight, unsupervised use of training facilities had been restricted to members.

"You can either pay for training or join up," Percius Mercius, the guild leader, said politely but firmly.

He expressed surprise that Llovesi had been previously refused by Eydis and signed her up immediately, saying they could use all the recruits they could get. They went through the paperwork. Julan declined to join, saying he didn't want to be tied into anything. Percius told her she could get duties from Balmora, Vivec or Sadrith Mora (although he understood if she declined the former), but he wouldn't have anything for her until she reached the rank of Swordsman. Lastly, he said that his door would always be open if she had any questions about the orders she received.

Llovesi and Julan trained for the rest of the afternoon. He was a tough opponent, stronger than her (whatever he said to the contrary), but she had a slight height advantage and faster reflexes. They capped their swords and sparred aggressively, until their faces dripped with sweat and they could go no longer.

"Truce?" Llovesi said grinning, and wiped the sweat from her brow.

"Sure. Good fight! I'm feeling good about this training."

They turned in for the night, and although Julan fell asleep straight away, Llovesi lay awake, silent tears running down her face as the day's emotions drained out of her. Then she turned herself over stubbornly. There was no use crying, she had to bottle up her emotions, lest they overcome her.

The next morning Llovesi woke first and stepped over to the small window in the dormitory. Pushing it open, she breathed in the cool winter breeze. She felt refreshed, literally and metaphorically, as if she were turning a new page in her life. Behind her, Julan stirred. They were the only ones in the room.

"Mffmp. Llovesi what are you doing up?"

"Sorry, Julan I'm just getting some fresh air. You can go back to sleep if you want."

"Yeah, well I'm awake now, aren't I?" he said crossly, yawning and swinging his legs free of the blankets. "Sorry. Not a morning person. Gods, I ache."

Llovesi did too. Barring the life-threatening situations she had been in (of which there were now a disturbing amount), it was the first properly physical workout she had had in ages. Julan pulled no punches.

"So, what are we going to do today?" Julan asked.

"Well, I have some duties that I should probably be getting on with. For the Imperial Cult." She'd wanted to sever all ties with the organisation, but realised at the same time it wouldn't be fair while there remained people who she'd sworn to help.

At this Julan appropriated an agonised expression somewhere between annoyance and joy.

"What?" Llovesi asked.

"It's just, oh! I hate the Imperial Cult! They're so nice! They help people! They make me feel bad about hating the Empire! I wish they'd stop!"

At this Llovesi doubled up, wheezing with laughter.

It was Julan's turn to look confused. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"Oh Julan, you're so, so..." She could say no more and she shook her head, laughing. "I presume you don't hate me, Llovesi the outlander?"

"No, no. You don't understand. So what are your duties? Bringing cure disease potions to unemployed widows with five mouths to feed?"

"Er, actually no, I'm supposed to help an Argonian in Hla Oad repel a ghost. By the Nine! And I promised Synnolius I'd fetch him some Netch leather over a week ago!"

"So, ghost-investigating and Netch-hunting? Sounds quite fun. Are we going?" Julan finished lacing his shirt and sat down to pull his boots on.

"Let's go through Vivec, I'll pick up some orders from Lorbumol in the Fighters Guild on the way."

They left the Guild. The streets were still reasonably empty, but there was a group of weary travellers heading towards the silt strider platform. Llovesi intended to walk to the Mages Guild and teleport to Vivec, but Julan stopped her.

"Aren't we going by silt strider?"

"I was going to suggest we take the Guild Guide. It's much faster, and cheaper, even if it does make you feel a little queasy."

Julan looked anxious again. "I've not had very good experiences with teleportation. My mother... er, maybe that's a story for another time. Anyway, I've always wanted to go by silt strider!"

They joined the group of people making their way up to the tall platform. The caravaner greeted them all: "Why walk when you can ride, travellers?"

Julan suddenly looked quite green. Well, greener than usual. "We're very high up, aren't we?" He gripped the Strider shell until his knuckles went white.

Llovesi settled back to enjoy the view as the sun rose over the hills, dispelling the early morning mists. "Maybe you should sleep? I'll wake you when we get to Balmora."

When they finally reached Vivec in the early afternoon, Julan look very glad to be back on solid ground. "I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it," he said, "but maybe, next time, we should take the quicker travel option?"

Then he stopped talking, and gazed up at the Foreign Quarter rising out of the water in front of them. Travellers: merchants with goods, and tourists, were making their way over the bridge in both directions below them. Llovesi noticed there were fewer people in the latter group. Perhaps it was winter drawing in. The canals echoed with the gentle lapping of water against gondolas and the small cafes and stalls along the outer walls buzzed with activity. Julan watched a richly-dressed Altmer with bundles of cloth in his arms join the crowd from the traffic on the road and whistled.

"So, this is Vivec? It's so huge and grand!" He turned to look at her and sighed. "Llovesi, be honest, do I seem like a complete savage to you?"

This question, like almost everything she'd heard from Julan so far, threw Llovesi completely. "What?" she asked.

"I know how people view Ashlanders. Violent, uncivilized barbarian tribes, living in filth and squalor, obsessed with ancient superstitions. You settled types, with your luxurious lifestyles can't understand why we might _choose_ to live like this. There are things more valuable than these tasteless displays of wealth."

Llovesi let him say his piece. She suspected that he was trying to cover up how excited he truly was.

"Look Julan, for what's it's worth I don't think you're a savage. I'm hardly a person to judge anyway." His inclusion of her in the category 'settled types' made her smile inwardly.

"That's true. Hey, Llovesi, I actually don't know much about you. Where are you from?"

Llovesi jumped. "Oh, Cyrodiil. And there's not much to tell about me really. Just an adventurer, looking for... adventure." She spoke quickly and awkwardly, and Julan looked suspicious, but to her relief he didn't push the subject. She didn't feel ready to talk to him about her past just yet.

"Well," Julan continued after a pause. "Maybe coming from Cyrodiil has made you more open minded. Here, Ashlanders are viewed with suspicion in the cities. I'm worried about looking conspicuous. So, uh, I know we're just stopping by so you can get some orders but maybe we could go shopping and... have a look around?"

So, for the second time, Llovesi saw Vivec through a tourist's eyes. They went to Lorbumol first, a bad-tempered Orc (Llovesi was beginning to wonder if they all had anger issues) who demanded she go fetch a ring from some other Orc called Nar in the Hlaalu Canton. On the way over, Llovesi and Julan explored Vivec.

They went in all the shops they could find. Alchemists, Apothecaries, Enchanters, Bakers, Smiths, a bookshop, which greatly excited Julan, who turned out to be as much of a prolific reader as Llovesi. It transpired that Julan didn't actually have any money, but he pulled off such a puppy-dog face that Llovesi felt compelled to get him some better equipment. So they left Alusaron's with some new armour and some arrows and a silver long sword for Julan.

"Wow, thank you, Llovesi." Julan said, examining how the brand new sword caught the light. "Did I mention how you're my best friend for life?"

After they'd retrieved and returned the Juicedaw Feather Ring, Llovesi realised something. She was having fun. Julan seemed to be enjoying himself too.

"You know Julan, we don't have to go to Ebonheart tonight. Why don't we have some fun here?"

"Fun? In the city of the po-faced Ordinators. Do you think it's possible?" Julan whispered conspiratorially as one of the golden-armoured figures strode haughtily past them.

It turned out it was. They went to see a fight at the arena, two mages who were putting on a show that was more about entertaining the crowd than a fight to the death. Then they wandered around the Foreign Quarter some more, getting some Scrib Jerky from a stall and paying a street artist to draw a portrait of them. Julan complained how they made his nose far too big and wanted to throw it away, but Llovesi stashed it in her pack when he wasn't looking. They paid a gondolier to take them on a tour of the cantons, and they looked round in wonder as each one rose, majestic, around them. Finally they ended up back where they had begun, and headed to a Cornerclub for a drink.

"The Black Shalk. Sounds all right. It's got to be all right, it's a tavern." Julan said and pushed open the door. It wasn't the friendliest place Llovesi had been in. There was a panicked murmuring as they approached the patrons at the bar and Llovesi caught snatches of the conversation.

"... talking about a quarantine..."

"... family on the mainland..."

The talk stopped as they reached the bar and the Dunmer watched them suspiciously. They relaxed when Llovesi placed twenty septims on the counter. "Two matzes, please."

One drink turned into another, and another, and soon a giggling Julan challenged a tipsy Llovesi to a drinking challenge. "First one under the table loses!" They were going strong until Julan dropped his empty mug. "Whooops!" He snickered and bent down to retrieve it, falling off his stool.

"I think tha' meansh I'm a winner!" Llovesi whooped and punched the air, then looked around guiltily. Luckily, the bar had become rowdier at this point, as people had finished work and come to drink.

"Come on, Julan I think, maybe, possub, possiblyyy, we've had enough."

Julan remerged hiccupping. "Okay. Come on! Let's get out of here. I want to find an Ordinator and tell him what I think of him!"

The bar went deadly silent. A Dunmer stood up nearby, revealing his Indoril cuirass.

"And what would that be, Ashlander?" he said quietly.

"Oh damn, Julan! Run!"

They ran, ducking, wheezing and giggling through the canton. They weren't even sure if they were being chased but they ran anyway, out of the waistworks, across the bridge to another canton, breathing in the night air and whooping. Llovesi didn't care about the strange looks they were getting, all she knew was that she was having the best evening of her life.

They collapsed on the bridge of the Temple Canton. Llovesi stared up at the softly illuminated statues of Vivec and felt oddly hushed. Julan, on the other hand, squinted and brandished a fist.

"Right!" he said loudly, "I'm going to walk straight up to Vivec and tell him, tell him – oh you're so much better with words than me Llovesi! Tell you what, you hold him down and I'll hit him, okay?"

"Probably not your best idea, Julan," Llovesi remarked, glad they were out of earshot of the nearby patrols. She felt the cold winter air beginning to sober her up. Julan leant his head against her shoulder.

"You're shooo nice, Llovesi. Buying me all that stuff, and those drinksssh. Nobody's ever been sho nische to me. Well, maybe Shani. Shaaaanniii was nische..." He started to snore gently.

Llovesi shook him. "Julan, who's Shani?" She was certain he'd never mentioned the name before.

"Wha?"

"Who's Shani?"

"Who?"

"Julan-"

"Who?"

They continued in that vein for a little while until Llovesi slumped. "Never mind. I think it's bedtime." She struggled him onto his feet, and they set off.

They made it only a few paces past the slums of St. Olms, mercifully quiet, when a door was flung open with a bang. A woman stepped out, barring their way. Her eyes were oddly unfocused and something about her reminded Llovesi of the half-naked Dunmer man she'd seen on the road a few days ago.

"I am a Sleeper, one among thousands. I bring you a message," she intoned. "Dagoth Ur calls you and you cannot deny your Lord. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory."

Llovesi felt the weight of Julan on her shoulder half-asleep and knew he would be no help. "Get out of our way," she said firmly. Amazingly, the woman did, turning and walking back into her home as suddenly as she had appeared.

"Come on, Julan," Llovesi muttered, tugging on his arm. She was starkly sober now, and felt that the woman's message would haunt her for a while. What did it mean? Did she want to find out? She set her mind back to dragging Julan to the nearest inn, and tried to forget about it.


	9. Sleepers

**A/N:** **Just like to say, thanks for the reviews/favourites/follows so far, it really means a lot to me! Don't hesitate to comment/send me a message if you have any questions or constructive criticism!**

* * *

_**Chapter 8: Sleepers**_

The next two weeks flew past. Julan and Llovesi settled into an easy rhythm of teamwork, travelling between the cities, towns and villages of the southwest of Vvardenfell. Llovesi completed the remaining tasks that the lay servants of the Imperial Cult had for her, and was summoned to see Lalatia Varian:

"I hereby promote you to the rank of Disciple. I may request your presence soon if I receive any visions, for you are more than ready for Oracle Quests."

Llovesi also visited Eydis Fire-Eye in Balmora again for orders. The Nord didn't recognise her as the girl 'who had never swung a sword', which gave Llovesi confidence that she was at least doing something right. Her tasks were easy, but worryingly seemed to focus on bounties and debt collections. Eydis was also rather over-insistent that the targets were definitely not Thieves Guild, certainly not, thank you very much. Llovesi was glad when she finished her last task and Eydis said she had nothing else for her until she reached the rank of Protector. She was beginning to feel like a hired thug.

Unfortunately, there was the same problem with Lobrumol. Near the end of the two-week deadline Caius had given her, she went to see the Orc for new orders. She and Julan walked in to find him finishing his lunch.

"There's an Argonian that can't keep its mouth shut," he said between mouthfuls. "Go shut Tongue-Toad's mouth. He's at The Rat in the Pot in Ald'ruhn. Silence him and I'll give you five hundred septims.

"_Silence_ him?"

"I think you know what I mean, Elf." And he squeezed his loaf of bread in his sinewy hands until it crumbled.

Outside, Julan looked disturbed. "I don't like this one, Llovesi."

"I haven't liked them for a while. I'm beginning to regret joining this guild."

"Well, it's in Ald'ruhn. Why don't we drop in and see Percius on the way?"

* * *

Percius frowned when Llovesi told him what had happened. "What is Tongue-Toad's crime? I don't know that it's right to kill him. Maybe you could convince him to leave instead."

"Right."

"Oh and Llovesi, have you checked your advancement recently? Eydis passed on a good report around the guildhalls. I think you'll make a fine Journeyman." His eyes twinkled as he smiled. "Go on with your duties. But might I suggest that if Lorbumol gives you anything else questionable you simply don't do it? I can't stop him kicking you out of the guild, so maybe it's time to pay Hrundi a visit in Sadrith Mora?"

Sadrith Mora. She'd been hearing a lot about the Telvanni capital recently. The largest settlement on the eastern coast, unchartered land for her; she felt it's exotic pull. She told Percius that she would definitely consider it, then she and Julan left the Guild.

"Time to tell some poor fetcher to flee for his life," Julan said glumly, as they made their way to the nearby tavern.

"Yeah I- what was that?"

There was a horrible screaming nearby and a crowd of people came running past. Llovesi could hear children crying. A woman's voice rose above the crowd:

"B'Vek he's dead! He killed him! Oh Bralen! Tribunal save us!"

Guards in bonemold armour were rushing to the source of the screaming with their swords drawn. Llovesi and Julan followed at a run.

A crying Dunmer woman was crouched over a dead Dunmer man. He had been horribly mutilated. The guards tried to pull her away but she only clung onto the dead man's body and howled harder.

"Muthsera? Where is the one who did this?" one guard asked. They all turned as a harsh voice rang out from the door of the Ald Skar Inn.

"The wickwheat is winnowed, and under the harrow, the earth is prepared for planting. The n'wah must die, and their flesh serve to sweeten the soil."

It was another Dunmer, richly dressed, but his fine clothes were dark and wet with blood. His eyes carried an unpleasantly familiar oddly blank stare.

"House Dagoth has risen, sleepers awake and all must bow before His glory. Flee, n'wah for your doom is nigh. True Dunmer rise up and cast off the shackles of your oppression. Join Him in the Flesh, join Him in the Ash..." The young man carried on ranting as the guards surrounded him and frogmarched him away.

"That, that was Varvur Sarethi!" Julan was wide-eyed and ashen. "I'm sure! I came into Ald'ruhn for a drink one night and he was there. He's a noble's son or something like that. What happened... By Azura, look at this mess!" His nose wrinkled in disgust.

The wailing woman was being led away by guards.

"Come on Julan, let's find Tongue-Toad. I want to get out of here as soon as possible," Llovesi said quietly. She understood now, the tense atmosphere in the places they visited, the lack of children playing, the fact that people tended to stay indoors. The Blight was worsening, and now these Sleepers everywhere proved to be not only highly creepy but also highly dangerous. Was this soul sickness? It seemed to only affect Dunmer this badly.

She looked at Julan apprehensively and remembered what he had said about his dreams. Voices whispering. What was she going to do if she woke in the night to find his hands around her neck? Or, for that matter, her hands around his?

It didn't bear thinking about. They warned Tongue-Toad, made worse by the fact he turned out to be highly educated and polite. "It is no matter," he said, shaking his head. "In truth I have feared this for a while. I will contact my friends on the mainland and be gone before the week is out. Thank you for my life, sera."

Outside, Llovesi steeled herself for the next task. Going back to Balmora, back to Caius. She had ruled out letting Julan know she was a spy. She had got to know him, and knew it would be the end of their friendship. Still... a little bending of the truth couldn't hurt?

"So, what next?" Julan asked. "Shall we go to Sadrith Mora now?"

"Actually Julan, I have to go and see this man in Balmora."

"Oh?" His tone was playful. Llovesi made a face.

"Not like that! I'm doing some work for him. Er, research."

"What kind of research?"

_Could it hurt?_ "He wants to know about the Sixth House and Nerevarine Cult."

"WHAT?"

_So yes then. Oh, Divines. _

_"_What does he want to know about that for?" Julan continued, highly flustered.

Llovesi had never seen Julan this agitated, and she had no idea why. In an attempt to calm him down, she invented quickly: "He's a historian. There haven't been any books about recent Dunmer history, so he's writing one. A sort of how to guide for visitors so they don't embarrass themselves." _Like I am._

"Hmm." Julan seemed suspicious but mollified for now. "Fine. But it sounds a bit fishy to me. If you don't know anything else about it..."

Llovesi insisted that she didn't, so they set off, Julan asking to use the guild guide this time.

They walked through town to Caius's apartment. Julan reached for the door-knocker.

"Er wait, Julan. I think it would be better if you waited outside. He's really eccentric, I'm about the only visitor he'll tolerate."

"Oh, for Azura's sake!" Julan shouted, but dropped the handle nevertheless. "This guy sounds ridiculous. You do know how to pick your friends. Fine, go have a cosy chat. But don't expect to find me out here. I'm going to get a drink!" He stormed off. Llovesi watched him go helplessly. She couldn't think what else to do. She was beginning to suspect she had a knack for alienating people. She knocked and entered.

"Who was _that?"_ Caius asked as she went in, watching Julan stride away through his window.

"A friend I'm travelling with."

"Well, you sure know how to pick them," he said dryly. "Thank you for making him stay outside, it would have compromised both our roles had you brought him in. Now, to business."

He went to his desk and retrieved a coin purse and a folded piece of parchment.

"I'm sending you to Vivec. I've managed to track down three informants whom I've had dealings with before. I want you to interview them on what they know about the Nerevarine and the Sixth House. First, I want you to speak with Addhiranirr, a Khajiit Thieves Guild operative. Second, I want you to speak with Huleeya, an Argonian in the Morag Tong. Finally, I want you to speak with Mehra Milo, a Temple priestess. Here. I've written the details down, so you won't forget. And here are two hundred septims. For bribes and other expenses."

Llovesi took the money and instructions. "I've met Mehra Milo before. She works in the Library of Vivec, right? Bright red hair."

Caius's expression softened noticeably. "That's right. Well, you'll know what a decent sort she is then. She's a friend, so be careful. The Ordinators won't be happy to find her discussing such matters. As for the other two, Addhiranirr lives in the St. Olms Canton so you may find her there. Again, exercise caution. The poorer natives are often even more suspicious of outlanders, so you may have to purchase their confidence. Huleeya frequents the Black Shalk Cornerclub, but he's also known as a student of history and lover of books, so you may find him in a nearby bookshop."

Llovesi went to leave, then hesitated. "Caius, have you heard anything about Sleeper attacks?"

"'Serve your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory.'" Caius's voice was suddenly harsh. Then he smiled grimly. "That's what they say. There've been several attacks recently, and these Sleepers all say the same thing. What's wrong, Apprentice. You look jumpy."

"It's just... do you think it's linked to 'soul sickness'?"

"That's the Temple name for being crazy. The Dunmer are humourless bastards. They don't like strange behaviour. It makes them nervous. Eccentric isn't charming to them. It's dangerous. The natives are very tight-cheeked, and you will be too, if you want to avoid unwanted attention. Why all the questions about this suddenly? Aside from the worrying connection to the Sixth House I don't see what you personally have to be concerned about."

"I had a disturbing dream," Llovesi said in a small voice.

"You're worrying me, Llovesi. You're not going loopy on me, are you?" Caius said. "A word of advice. In Morrowind, if you have disturbing dreams, the Temple says you are crazy. And they want to lock you up. And if you have disturbing dreams, and think they _mean_ something, then the Temple thinks you're a prophet or witch. And they want to lock you up. So take my advice, and keep a lid on it. Now scram."

Llovesi left. If she had been expecting sympathy, she hadn't got it. Still, Caius's habitual refusal to be bothered had reassured her somewhat. Maybe it _was_ nothing.

She didn't find Julan in the South Wall, or the Lucky Lockup on the other side of town. Just as the sun was sinking below the horizon and she was beginning to think he'd decided to leave for good, she opened the door to the Eight Plates, and saw Julan chatting at the bar.

"Llovesi, come and have a drink!" he called merrily, apparently having forgotten their minor argument. He wasn't that drunk yet either, which was good. Llovesi gave in, and bought herself a matze. They retreated to a quieter table near the back.

"We're going to Vivec." Llovesi said quietly when they were seated, and passed him her instructions to read, figuring there was nothing incriminating there.

"Oh good, I liked Vivec. Hmm," Julan continued as he scanned the paper. "Your friend knows some strange people! I didn't know they let Argonians into the Morag Tong. And a Temple priestess! Good, I can tell her what I think of her stupid false Gods!"

"Julan, please, you mustn't upset her."

"Fine. Sorry. Oh and I'm... sorry about earlier on. I'm still cross with you," he added quickly, "but I realise I may have been a bit... short with you. You've been nice to me so far-"

Nice...Llovesi's memory was jogged by the word.

"Julan, who's Shani?" she asked, interrupting him mid-sentence. To her astonishment he actually blushed, deep purple rising in his cheeks.

"Wha... How do you know that name?" he asked.

"You mentioned it a few weeks ago back in Vivec. Late at night when we were drunk. I'd forgotten until now. You said she was nice."

"Oh God, did I? I hope I didn't say anything else... embarrassing. Well, if you must know, she's my ex-girlfriend."

"_Ex_?" Llovesi was interested. It seemed their pasts were more similar than she'd thought.

Julan smiled wistfully and gripped his tankard with both hands as he spoke.

"I suppose you could say we were childhood sweethearts. We grew up together in the Ahemmusa Camp. I always had a crush on her, but I never expected her to feel the same. It turned out she did." He grinned widely. "Well, anyway, we were teenagers: sneaking out at night, hiding from our parents – you know the sort of thing."

Llovesi didn't, but she nodded anyway. Julan seemed caught in the moment of a memory. But suddenly his tone became cynical.

"We thought we were madly in love. Us against the world. Heads in the clouds more like."

"So what happened?" Llovesi asked.

"My mother happened. She found out. She told me to break it off."

"Why did you do that? If you really loved her-"

"You don't understand! I didn't understand, at the time. I yelled, swore, refused. We had a huge row. I went to live in the mountains for a week. Then, my dreams started really getting to me. I had long think and I realised that my mother was right. My responsibility, my duty to my people, goes beyond my feelings for one person. Shani was distracting me. I was forgetting my sacred mission. If I really cared, I had to leave her to focus on my training. Anything else would've hurt her in the long run."

"I'm trying to work out if that's completely selfish or selfless," Llovesi said. She honestly wasn't sure. She thought back to how she'd wanted to do her job as a spy _and_ stay with Clause. With Julan it had been one or the other. Maybe that was the only way.

He shook his head sadly. "Please, just don't. You don't understand. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. She never forgave me. Maybe it would have ended anyway... but I still wonder how things might have turned out." He looked wistful again. Llovesi took a large gulp of her drink awkwardly.

Slowly, Julan came back to Nirn.

"Anyway, why don't you tell me more about yourself? I know hardly anything. How did you come to Morrowind?"

Llovesi hesitated, running her hand through her hair. Hadn't he opened up to her? Hiding her past hadn't worked with Clause. Maybe it was time to be frank.

"Okay," she said quietly. "If you do want to know, it was actually on board a prison ship."

Julan couldn't have shot back from the table faster. "You're a convict!? By Azura, you're not on the run are you?"

His reaction was so over the top, so funny, that it put Llovesi more at ease. She considered toying with him. But that probably wasn't fair. "No, I've been released. I guess that makes me an _ex_-con now."

"Released? Here in Morrowind? Hmpf! As if the Empire haven't done us enough damage without dumping their criminals on us!"

"Yes," Llovesi said dryly. "When you put it like that, I should have begged them to take me back to the Imperial City, leaving you to be eaten by Clannfear."

"Sorry. It's nothing personal; you know my feelings on the Empire. You seem like a good person though, so, uh, what did you, um, do?"

Llovesi was silent for a while, then she unlaced her cuirass and rolled up her shirt, exposing her stomach, so Julan could see the large burn scar that rippled and twisted the skin on her stomach. Then she let her top fall again.

"I worked as a maid for a noble," she spoke quickly, telling the story for the first time in her life, to get it out of her system, "in the Imperial City. He found me at an orphanage when I was four years old, and treated me with all the kindness you'd expect from a father. He even taught me a little magic. Then, one night, when I was thirteen, there was a break-in. An assassin, a thief, I don't know. I slept on the ground floor and heard them come in. I wanted to stop them. I did what I did to try and save everybody. Instead, I killed them all."

She choked slightly on the last word and stopped to take a breath.

"I decided to use a fire spell my master had shown me. Just to scare the guy off, maybe hurt him a little. But in my panic, fear and, yeah I guess, my excitement, it went wrong. It was far too big, far too powerful. I couldn't stop it. Or maybe I let it happen; maybe I got carried away by how powerful I felt. Everything burnt. When I came to, the mansion was crumbling around me. Everything was black, dead, ash. I don't remember anything else. Apparently the guards had put the fire out and found me, huddling in the middle of a fire shield. They said I'd confessed to the murder of five people, so they took me away. Maybe they thought I really intended to murder them, or maybe they just thought it would be safer if I stayed locked up. Until, a few months ago, when they released me. I still don't know why."

Llovesi shrugged. "So you now know. Please, believe me. I may be a killer but I am a good person. I only wanted to help."

Julan looked straight into her eyes. "Llovesi, I judge a person based on their present actions, not their past. You've been nothing but helpful and a good friend to me, and I'm loyal to my friends. This doesn't change anything. As long as you're not planning to set me on fire!"

"Thank you, Julan. And don't worry I won't," Llovesi said, really hoping that the last bit would remain true. She had thought she would feel a weight lift off her shoulders by telling the story. Instead she felt the same.

_Maybe I've done my penance. Or maybe it's not over yet._


	10. Informants

_**Chapter 9: Informants**_

The next morning, thoughts of the fire that had changed her life were far from Llovesi's mind as she and Julan sat atop the Foreign Quarter Plaza.

"So here's the plan," she said. "We work through the cantons in order. That means, Huleeya, Addhiranirr, then Mehra. Remember, you let me-"

"Yeah, yeah." Julan jumped down, landing squarely in front of the large steps and startling some passers-by. "'Remember I let you do the talking.' I'm just looking forward to going back to Jobasha's bookshop. Are we leaving or what?"

Llovesi slid down and landed next to him. "Okay. This is the biggest bit of research I've done so far, I don't want to muck it up."

They checked Jobasha's store first, but the Khajiit just shook his head sadly.

"Jobasha expects good friend Huleeya to join him a while ago, but Huleeya has not yet come from his breakfast at the Black Shalk. Perhaps Huleeya has been delayed."

"Here we go," Julan moaned as they left the shop. "Don't you ever have any easy jobs?"

Llovesi thought back to her first days in Vvardenfell, when it had seemed a task to walk to farms and pick marshmerrow, and laughed, but she wasn't feeling too humorous. She hoped whatever, or whoever, was holding Huleeya up wouldn't be too difficult to deal with.

They entered the cornerclub. It was practically empty: just a few Dunmer milling about and the barman stocktaking at the bar. Llovesi walked up to him.

"Raril, have you seen an Argonian called Huleeya this morn-" Too late she realised the Dunmer's eyes were wide and he was shaking his head frantically.

"So, someone's looking for a filthy lizard, are they?"

The Dunmer she had taken to be just standing around, she now realised, were actually crowding with purpose. They were mean looking, rough around the edges, with almost a full set of armour and teeth between them. Cammona Tong. The one who had spoken stepped aside to reveal an Argonian sitting at the table.

"Hello," Huleeya said pleasantly, as if he didn't have a care in the world for the situation he was in. "Are you looking for me? I'd like to go to my friend's bookshop, but these troublesome fools won't let me leave."

One of the thugs moved behind the Argonian's chair. "Now, now. No one asked your opinion, reptile. Don't be so rude. Stand up when you're talking to the lady." He grabbed Huleeya by the shoulders and pulled him up roughly, tipping the table over.

It had gone far enough. Llovesi stepped forward, deliberately placing her weight on Julan's foot as she did so, stopping him from speaking.

"I'll call the guards," she said.

This was clearly the wrong thing to say. The men looked at each other, then burst out laughing. "Stupid fetcher!" one said.

"Ain't no guards coming in here! This is _our _club!"

"Now shove it. We've got a filthy lizard to deal with."

Llovesi felt her temper rising and fought to control it. "Really," she said, searching for the money Caius had given her. "Because a hundred septims says that this is a club where people can come and go as they please, and Huleeya and I are going to leave now." She placed the coin purse onto the counter and waited while the men looked at each other.

"Fine," one said. "You want a lizard so badly, you can have it. Who gives a damn anyway. Get out of here." They moved to let Huleeya stand, but apparently couldn't resist aiming a few kicks at him as he left with Llovesi and Julan.

"Thank you," Huleeya said, once they were outside. "I simply wished to enjoy my breakfast in peace then visit my friend Jobasha, but those fools had other ideas. The sight of a free Argonian offends those racist thugs. But I am glad it did not turn to violence. It would have tarnished my Morag Tong honour to slay them." He dusted himself off, casually. "Now I understand you wished to speak with me? Perhaps we will find peace and quiet in my friend's bookshop."

They walked through to the other side of the waistworks in amiable silence, Julan glancing at Huleeya with a mixture of what looked like admiration and fear as the Argonian strode in front.

They went into the bookshop, which was quiet save for a few customers browsing.

"Now, how can I help you?" Huleeya asked.

"I work for Caius Cosades. I was hoping you could tell me about the Nerevarine Cult and the Sixth House cult."

Huleeya inclined his head. "I have never heard of the latter. House Dagoth was the Sixth House, but in the War of the First Council, they betrayed the other Great Houses, and were destroyed for their treason. I've never heard of anyone worshipping them, and I've never heard of anyone worshipping Dagoth Ur either.

"Now, the Nervearine Cult, that I can speak on with some knowledge. Perhaps you have a piece of paper, sera?"

Llovesi handed him her journal.

"Thank you. Now I will write a summary for Caius, which you are welcome to read, and I will answer your questions now in more detail. To understand the Nerevarine Cult, you must understand the history of the Ashlanders, for Nerevar means something very different to them than what he means to the Dunmer of the Great Houses. You should also understand the persecution of the Nerevarine and the False Incarnate."

"What can you tell me about Ashlander history then?" Llovesi asked, ignoring Julan's derisive snort.

"In the First Era, the nomadic Ashlanders and the settled Dunmer clans were much alike, but after the First Council and the formation of the Great Houses, Ashlanders have been steadily forced into the poorest and most hostile lands. Now the nomadic tribes look to the prophesied return of Nerevar for a restoration of their ancient rights and religious traditions."

"I see. So, the Temple persecutes this figure?"

"Yes. The Nerevarine prophecies are treated as heresy, and the Temple imprisons and executes heretics. Normally Imperial law would prevent this, but the Nerevarine Cult is hostile to the Empire as well, so they do not interfere. Aslanders hate the Temple for their ruthless treatment of the Nerevarine cultists."

"Damn right," Julan muttered under his breath.

"And what about these 'False Incarnates'? Isn't that just the Temple name for anyone claiming to be the Nerevarine?" Llovesi asked.

"Yes and no. The Temple says these False Incarnates disprove the prophecies, since the False Incarnates fail and come to nothing, but the Nerevarine cult glorifies rather than shrinks from contradictions, citing the appearance of 'failed Incarnates' as certain proof of Nerevar's coming rebirth. Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

"I think that's everything, thank you for your time."

Huleeya smiled. "The pleasure is mine, sera. To talk about history is one of my past-times. Give my regards to Caius."

Outside, Julan snorted loudly again.

"What is with you?" Llovesi asked. "Getting a cold?"

"I don't see why Caius is sending you to these people," he said, leaning back against the wall by the shop. "I could have told you any of that!"

"Really. You didn't tell me you were such an expert on history." Llovesi moved off through the crowd.

"Well, I am an Ashlander!" Julan said indignantly.

"Why don't you tell me what you know then?"

"It's not... well, I'm not actually a historian exactly... everything he said was correct."

Llovesi laughed. "Come on, Master Historian. Let's go and find Addhiranirr."

It was now raining fiercely outside, so they opted to take the longer route and walk, rather than be drenched in a gondola.

"I'm glad we're not them," Julan remarked, as a shivering family of Bosmer passed below them, ferried by a dripping gondolier.

Nevertheless, by the time they reached St. Olms, they were still soaked. Julan sneezed loudly. "Did I mention I hate rain?" he grumbled, pulling his sodden hair back from his face and wringing it out.

They ducked into the waistworks. The sight was enough to make Llovesi reconsider her positive thoughts of Vivec. The slums were hard to look at. Weary women with tired bodies led small children through the crowd of people, people walking just to be somewhere else. Then there were those that couldn't: beggars sitting against the wall, some of them missing limbs, all entirely despondent. _By the Divines, some of them are children_.

Julan spoke into Llovesi's ear: "This is awful. Can we find Addhiranirr and get out of here?"

Llovesi nodded, but she couldn't see any Khajiit anywhere. All the people were Dunmer, young, old and weary. _Wait; was that an Imperial over there?_ He looked rather more richly dressed than the rest of the crowd too. _Strange_.

They weren't attracting as much attention as Llovesi had thought they would, and it came to her that between her sodden, ragged, worn robe and Julan's mismatched animal-hide clothing, they looked pretty poor themselves. This gave her an idea.

"Hold these," she said, and took off her weapons and pack, handing them to a confused Julan. "Just wait here, I have an idea."

She messed up her hair, and darted through the crowd, catching a Dunmer man by the elbow.

She coughed. "Excuse me, sera. I'm looking for my friend Addhiranirr."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Funny, that _is_ a popular name today. I might know the person it belongs to but I can't quite recall... "

Llovesi sighed and passed a pouch of one hundred septims to the man.

"Oh, I feel my memory coming back." He stared at her levelly. "Look yes, I know Addhiranirr. And if I know Addhiranirr, she'll be staying out of sight while that Census and Excise agent is nosing around. Stingy bastard, that one. He's been asking about her as well. My guess is she'll be down in the underworks, but she probably won't be talking to anyone until that agent has been sent on his merry way."

He nodded at the Imperial currently trying not to stick out like a sore thumb and failing, then disappeared back into the crowd.

Llovesi thought quickly. If the man had decided wearing flashy armour and an embroidered skirt in one of the poorest cantons was a good idea, he probably wasn't the brightest of the bunch. So she could use that.

She paced around quickly, trying to work up a flush. Then she stormed off, head down, calculating her path so to bump into the Imperial.

"Ouf! Could you watch where you're going citizen?" he said.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Llovesi did her best to maintain a wide-eyed ditzy expression. "It's just, argh!" She stamped her foot for effect.

"Well, okay, but right now I'm really rather b-"

"It's my friend Addhiranirr!"

That caught his attention. "Yes? As it happens, Addhiranirr is... my friend as well. Have you seen her?"

"Well that's just the thing!" Llovesi threw up her hands in exasperation. "I was supposed to meet her for a cup of marshmerrow tea this morning, and I've just found out she took a boat to the mainland! Without telling me! Something about a tax agent..."

She looked up with wide, innocent eyes and smiled internally to see he'd taken the bait.

"Oh, my," she said. "I've been rather foolish, haven't I?"

The man smiled grimly. "Thank you for the information, citizen. I was just going to head back that way myself." In a swish of skirts, he was gone.

Llovesi retreated to a nearby hallway, where Julan was clutching his sides.

"That... was... incredible!" he wheezed, in-between fits of laughter.

"Thank you."

"No, I mean... by Azura, who told you, you could act? That was hilarious!"

"Oh." Llovesi felt quite affronted. "Well, it worked didn't it?"

"Sure, sure." Julan shook his head in disbelief. "I just can't quite believe it. Let's go find this Khajiit then."

They made their way down to the canalworks, where the sound of running water grew louder. And the smell too.

"Urgh!" Llovesi pulled her robe up to her nose. "What is that?"

Julan gave her a look. "Well, all these people, the... waste... has to go somewhere. So it goes-"

"-To the underworks. Oh great."

She found a nearby trapdoor and pulled it up. The smell was like a slap around the face. "By the Divines, I hope she's not hiding far."

They descended the narrow ladder quickly, neatly sidestepping a pile of unidentifiable sludge.

"There!" Julan shouted, pointing across the sewer. A hooded figure was leaning against the far wall. At Julan's shout, she swore and darted down a nearby tunnel, her tail flying out behind her.

"Addhiranirr, wait!" Llovesi yelled. "Caius sent me to speak with you."

The Khajiit woman re-emerged slowly, suspiciously. Her hood had fallen down, and Llovesi was surprised to see how young she looked; she couldn't be much more than a teenager.

"Great," Addhiranirr said, and her tone was sarcastic. "So Caius says to you, 'Speak with Addhiranirr.' And you have done this thing. You are speaking with Addhiranirr. But Addhiranirr will not talk to you right now, and because why? Because Addhiranirr is, at this moment, very distracted by a nice Census and Excise agent, who also wants to speak with her." She pulled her hood back up and leant obstinately against the wall.

"Llovesi told the agent that you took a boat to the mainland," Julan said.

The Khajiit lifted her head, and lowered her hood again. "Really? You have made the agent go away? This is a good trick. So speak away, friend Llovesi. Speak and Addhiranirr will answer all your questions, even if she does not know the answers, for she is now happy to do so, if it makes friend Caius happy."

"Thank you. But could we get into some fresh air first?"

The Khajiit's ears rose in surprise, but she agreed and shortly they were discussing the Nerevarine and the Sixth House in the fresher, but still musty, air of the canalworks.

"Addhiranirr knows nothing about the Nerevarine Cult because it is nothing but silly superstition. You tell Caius this. Nobody in her right mind pays any attention to this moon-yeowling. Prophecies and ancient heroes reborn and other silliness. Fuzzy tales for little kitties.

"Now this Sixth House, this Addhiranirr knows about because it is about smuggling. Some smart smugglers are suddenly too busy for their old clients, because they have a new employer, the Sixth House, who pays _very_ well. But what do they smuggle now? Addhiranirr doesn't know, because they are very secret. And this is odd, because these smugglers are always loud and bragging, and now they hush up like fat-bellied kitties full of sweet-meats."

"Well, that was a load of rubbish," Julan grumbled as they made their way back over to the Temple canton. "Where does she get off, talking about our prophecies like that? As if we're just a bunch of stupid, superstitious savages! Has she heard herself talk lately? And what-"

"Hmm." Llovesi was inclined to agree with the Khajiit. The whole 'Nerevar reincarnated' thing _did_ sound very silly, but then she wasn't a native Dunmer. Something the Khajiit had said stuck in her mind. "The bit about smuggling was interesting though. If vague. Julan, do you remember that cave we cleared out near Gnisis a few weeks ago?"

"Huh?" Julan was cut off mid-rant. "Yeah. What about it?"

"Do you remember those weird statues we found? The red-glass ones, filled with sand?" Sand... or_ ash. Join Him in the Flesh, join Him in the Ash_...

"Oh yeah. They _were_ weird. I didn't like them at all."

"I wonder... never mind, let's go find Mehra Milo."

"Oh goody, a Temple Priestess in the Library of Vivec. This is going to be fun!"

"Julan please. Besides, I already told you, I've been reading in the library before and Mehra is very nice and helpful."

Julan stared at her. "What? There're no good books in there at all! Just Vivec's demented ramblings!"

They entered the library under the suspicious glare of the Ordinators.

"Watch yourselves," one growled. "We'll have no trouble here."

Llovesi scanned the librarians stocking shelves, and spotted Mehra's distinctive copper hair from the back.

"Mehra?"

The priestess turned around.

"Llovesi? I barely recognised you! How many weeks has it been? You're looking well. And you've brought a friend!" She bobbed a bow to Julan, then placed the book she was cataloguing on a nearby shelf and grasped Llovesi's hands warmly.

"Thank you, Mehra. I'm looking for the _Brief History of the Empire_ series."

Mehra frowned. "But haven't you already-"

Llovesi tried to raise her eyebrows significantly. Mercifully, Mehra nodded.

"I understand, sera. Right this way."

She led them to the back of the library. Checking around, she opened a door and ushered them inside.

"This is the Head Librarian's office," she whispered. "We can talk here for a bit. What is it, Llovesi? Are you in trouble?"

"Caius sent me to ask you some questions."

Mehra blushed purple. "So, you know Caius? He is a... dear friend. I haven't heard from him in a little while. He is well?"

Llovesi found it hard to imagine anyone thinking fondly of the gruff Imperial. "He's fine. He wanted me to ask you about the Sixth House Cult and the Nerevarine Cult."

Mehra leant back against the messy desk and smoothed her robe. "Go ahead," she said. "I'm afraid I don't know anything about a 'Sixth House cult', but I can tell you about the Nerevarine cult."

"What do you know?""

"The Temple worships Nerevar as a saint and hero, but prophecies of his reincarnation are punished as wicked heresy. The Nerevarine cult claims the Tribunal are false Gods, hence the Temple's persecution of the Nerevarine cult. A group called the Dissident Priests disputes Temple doctrine on the Nerevarine prophecies. The book _Progress of Truth_ describes their beliefs. Get a copy of _Progress of Truth_ for Caius Cosades. That will tell him things he needs to know about the Nerevarine cult."

"Thank you. Where can I find a copy of this book?"

Mehra sighed. "The Temple has outlawed the sale or possession of the book, so it will be hard to find. We have a copy here, but I fear if it goes missing I will be in trouble. A safer plan would be to search local booksellers. Some booksellers ignore Temple bans on outlawed books for profits or for principles. Is there anything else I can tell you?"

Llovesi thought for a moment. "You're a Temple priestess. Can you tell me why the Temple persecutes the Cult and the Dissident priests?"

Mehra sighed again, and tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "In truth," she said, "I've never understood why the Temple wastes so much energy on them. The faithful cannot be shaken by such attacks, and the Ashlanders are just ignorant savages."

Llovesi could practically hear the steam coming out of Julan's ears, so she jumped in quickly: "But, what reasons do the Temple give for the persecution?"

"What reasons? Because attacks on the Temple weaken the faith, and leave the people defenceless against the influence of Dagoth Ur. Faith is what strengthens the will of the believer against Dagoth Ur's lies. Faith is the source of the divine power that sustains the Tribunal in their battle with Dagoth Ur. And some Dunmer are turning away from the Temple and now Dagoth Ur grows stronger, and Blight storms and monsters threaten the land."

"But what do the Dissident priests actually do?"

"As I said, they dispute Temple doctrine, and are outlawed and persecuted by the Temple. Ordinators arrest and imprison heretics, and the Empire cannot interfere. _Progress of Truth_ lists their beliefs. In brief, they challenge the purity and divinity of the Tribunal, suggesting their powers are sorcerous, not divine, and perhaps akin to the powers of Dagoth Ur. They condemn the arbitrary power of the Ordinators, and accuse the Temple hierarchy of self-interest and corruption. The Dissident Priests have also collected many ancient prophecies of the Nerevarine, many of which they believe to be genuine. Collectively these are called the Lost Prophecies of the Incarnate. One of the sacred missions of the Dissident Priests is the collection and study of these prophecies."

"Thank you, Mehra, that's really helpful." Llovesi said, finishing the last of the notes she was taking in her journal.

Mehra looked suddenly anxious. "Before you go Llovesi, I fear I may be in trouble here. I do not care for Temple politics. But I have read _Progress of Truth_, and it troubles me. I have friends, former priests, who have gone into hiding, so I am bound to come to the attention of the Ordinators. I am careful, but I'm afraid. Sooner or later I, too, must go into hiding. If it is not too late. When you return to Caius, tell him I am worried, and that if something goes wrong, I will leave a message under the agreed code word 'amaya'."

"I will," Llovesi said, making another note in her journal, then she and Julan left the office.

They left the library into a glorious red sunset. The rain had stopped and the cantons still glistened slightly as they reflected the sinking sun's rays.

"She was okay actually," Julan said, once they were out of earshot of any Ordinators. "I mean, you can tell she's been influenced by what the Temple say, but she's not just blindly following doctrine. She's trying to find answers! Come on, I bet Jobasha will have a copy of that book for your friend."

He did and that night, in the Vivec Fighters Guild Quarters, Llovesi sat up reading.

"Are you going to read that all night?" Julan asked pointedly from the bed next to hers.

"Hmm?" Llovesi was fascinated, despite herself. She still couldn't quite believe in any of the Nerevarine prophecies, but the origin of the Tribunal was like nothing she had encountered before. _Living Gods_. Talos was one thing and these were another. Yet, it seemed that even their divinity was not set in stone... she hovered her finger over the section titled _The purity of the Tribunal_ before it dawned on her that Julan had asked her a question.

"Oh, sorry, no. I don't have to. It is interesting though."

"Well, at least let me read it too," Julan said, and pushed his bed next to hers so to better look over her shoulder. They read together like that until the candle burned low and the room was left in shadow.

The tall figure in the golden mask stepped forward, and this time she could hear what he said.

"There are many rooms in the house of the Master. Be easy, for from the hands of your enemies I have delivered you." Then he stepped to one side and Llovesi could see the body lying on the stone slab. She was a Dunmer, her light ashen skin drained of life, her dark hair flowing down over her shoulders, eyes closed and cheeks sunken. She stepped forward and knew that it was her own body she was looking down upon. But whose hands were these then? For she could reach down and touch the figure. Her skin, because it certainly was her, was cold. Then the figure breathed in and colour flooded her cheeks. She rose from the table and Llovesi wanted to see her, wanted to hear her speak. But the room was filling with light and she was being dragged into it.

Hands were on her shoulders and a voice, far away, was saying: "Llovesi, wake up!" Suddenly Julan's face was in hers, and his scarlet eyes were wide with concern.

Llovesi blinked, still groggy with sleep. "Bwa?" she said. "What's going on?"

Julan let her go and leant back. "You were talking. Just saying 'who are you?' over and over." He avoided looking at her face.

"I, I was having a strange dream. I barely remember it."

Julan looked back at her suddenly, scrutinising her face. "You're having them too?" he asked. "I'm glad it's not just me."

They sat in silence for a moment then Julan scrambled back to his own bed. "I'm going to get some more sleep," he said. "Especially if we're teleporting in the morning, it always makes me feels a bit sick."


	11. Ashen Whispers

_**Chapter 10: Ashen Whispers**_

The next morning Julan begrudgingly agreed to sit on Caius's front doorstep while Llovesi went inside to talk.

"Excellent work," the Spymaster said, taking the report she offered him and _Progress of Truth_. "Again, give me a few weeks to digest this and decide our next steps. In the meantime, I'm promoting you to Journeyman. You're doing good work. And here are two hundred septims. Go out and treat yourself to a new pair of shoes. Or something. You smell like you've been in a sewer. Now, go do some freelance work, get some training. Come back when you're fit and rested." He handed her a pouch of money and shooed her out of the room.

Julan stood up and stretched. "That was quick," he said. He peered at the bulging coin purse. "Well, at least he pays you well."

He stretched again and grinned. "You know, Llovesi, I feel great! I think all your hard work training me is finally paying off! Thank you so much. I think I'm ready to go back to Red Mountain – I feel like I could take on anything." He adjusted his pack with a smile.

"Right! I'm off to Ghostgate!"

Llovesi felt her spirits dampen. She had thought, and she wasn't really sure why, that Julan would have wanted to spend more than a month with her. Of course he had his own life to lead.

"So, you're leaving then?" she asked.

"Well, do you want to keep me company for a little while longer? Over to Ghostgate, through the fence and to the foot of the mountain? It'll be good to have someone to talk to. I'll miss travelling with you... but I need to get on with my sacred mission."

"Okay, I guess we can head on over there. Caius has given me a few weeks off at any rate."

"Great, well, let's go right now! You didn't have anything else planned did you?"

Llovesi pushed thoughts of shopping and guild work from her mind and smiled. "No."

They travelled to Ald'ruhn then started the walk to Ghostgate. On the way, Llovesi couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Either Julan wasn't as ready as he claimed or he was really worried about what awaited him, for his desire to talk turned to constant chatter and jokes. Llovesi didn't mind so much: it made the journey more interesting, but it concerned her all the same, especially as Julan remained evasive about what his mission involved whenever she questioned him.

As they drew closer, Llovesi put her protective chitin armour on and wrapped her now tattered robe closely around herself, but Julan refused to wear any protective gear at all.

"I need to remain focused," he kept saying.

Llovesi pressed the triangular button, thinking how it felt like only yesterday she had met Julan in the exact same spot.

He darted through the tunnel then came to a stop at the foot of the mountain. The wind picked up around them, and the path ahead was dimly visible through the swirling ash.

"Right!" Julan shouted above the wind. "This is it! Thank you for everything. I hope I bump into you again one day!" He turned to go but Llovesi grabbed his arm, pulling off her helmet to talk.

"Is that the goodbye I get then? Aren't you even going to tell me what's going on?"

Julan hesitated, then shook his head furiously. "I told you, I can't talk about it!" He turned away, but Llovesi held onto his arm still.

"So you just expect me to leave, with no explanation?"

He sighed and looked at her, but made no more moves to go. "Well, yes, I did actually. Look, why do you care anyway?"

_Why do I care? Because I care about you! "_I'm worried you might get yourself killed!"

"Get myself killed? Why would I do that? Look, your concern is touching, but I'm ready for this." He pulled his arm away and made to walk off.

Llovesi strode in front of him. "But ready for _what_?"

Julan glared at her. "Gah! You and your questions! You're not going to let this drop are you?"

"No."

"Fine! But you have to swear to secrecy."

"I swear on the Nine Divines."

"Er yes... okay. I'm going to Dagoth Ur?"

"_The _Dagoth Ur? _Why_?"

"To enter his citadel, hunt him down and kill him."

Llovesi was so shocked she couldn't speak. Julan stared at her, with his chin raised slightly, as if daring her to challenge him. Well, she never turned down a challenge.

"Are you _completely_ crazy? Why would you want to do such a thing?"

Julan looked furious. "Yeah? And what in _Oblivion _would YOU know about it, anyway?"

"I know enough to know that he's the _devil_. Centuries old, divine power, etcetera! Julan – he'll have you on toast!"

Julan was positively fuming now. He raised a trembling finger and waved it under her nose. "Toast!" he shouted. "We'll see who has who on toast! You have no idea who you're talking to, so shut up!"

"I'm talking to an idiot Ashlander," Llovesi said hotly, "who not so long ago needed saving from Clannfear."

Julan's face was a picture. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you? Sheogorath! Well, think what you like, I'm going up there. Coming?"

"You're an idiot, you know. Of course I'm coming, I'm going to talk you out of it!"

"Hah. It's an easy journey – straight up to the top." With that he pushed past her and strode ahead stubbornly.

Llovesi jogged to catch him up. This was one argument she certainly wasn't going to walk away from. The path ahead seemed almost disturbingly quiet. Even if there were... things... around, she wasn't sure if she would hear them over the shrieking wind, or see them coming. Lost in thought she bumped into Julan.

"Er, why have you stopped?"

Julan looked at her confusedly. "What did you say?" he asked.

"I asked why you'd stopped."

"No, no, before that."

"Nothing."

"Oh... I could have sworn someone... never mind then." He carried on up the hill, Llovesi following more apprehensively than before.

Then she saw it. Coming towards them, arms raised as if it were trying to fumble its way through the air. Its skin was mottled, patchy, falling off. Llovesi had heard of the people that Corprus had turned into monsters, here on the mountain where the Blight was strongest, but she'd never seen one before. She didn't hesitate, sweeping the thing off its unsteady legs and spearing it in the gut before it could get any closer. The human look of suffering in its eyes was almost unbearable.

Julan hadn't even noticed. He had stopped again, a few feet from her and was staring wildly around.

"Look, I can't hear you when you whisper like that!" he said furiously.

"I definitely didn't say anything that time."

He shook his head like someone trying to get water out of his ears. "Don't tease me, I'm trying to concentrate."

He was off again at a surprising speed. Shielding her eyes, Llovesi marched to his side. He wheeled round suddenly and grabbed her.

"STOP DOING THAT!" he bellowed in her face.

She shook herself free angrily. "I'm not doing anything! What am I meant to be doing?"

"If you're trying to make me paranoid, it's not working!"

"You're making _yourself_ paranoid, you're-"

"SHUT UP!" He was striding off again higher and higher. Llovesi chased him once more, her brow creased with worry. _Something is going very, very wrong. _She wasn't even sure if he was talking to her any more.

She could hear him shouting to the wind.

"ARGH! Shut up! SHUT UP! I am NOT listening to you!"

"Julan-"

"GAH! Get away from me! Get OUT of my head!"

"Who are you t-"

"Ugh! No! I am NOT... Argh! Stop it you s'wit!"

"Julan, can you even hear me?"

"No! That's, that's not TRUE! That, that's not why I'm... ugh. I am Indoril Nerevar reborn and you will not-"

Llovesi grabbed Julan by the shoulders and shook him, but his hair blew across his face and she couldn't tell where he was looking.

"Julan, what are you TALKING abo-"

Suddenly he hit her, a great crack across the jaw that sent her flailing into the dirt. Her ponytail flew loose and her hair whipped round her head as she forced herself to her feet. Julan looked as if he was trying to fend off invisible demons.

"No... uh... get... out... my... head!"

Suddenly his eyes rolled back in his head and he buckled at the knees, hitting the ground with a thud.

Llovesi felt herself starting to panic, felt herself beginning to lose control. She choked it back, forced herself to take one step then another. _No. Not now. Not today._

She didn't know how she did it, wouldn't be able to remember it later, but she pulled Julan's dead weight onto her shoulders and stumbled back towards Ghostgate.

* * *

_Ulmiso Maloren was checking the temperature of a Buoyant Armiger, when the door to the infirmary was flung upon. At first, she couldn't quite believe her eyes. A young Dunmer woman stood there, holding a young Dunmer man in her arms. Her eyes were wild, her ashen skin coated in filth and her hair was matted to her face by sweat._

_"By the Three!" Ulmiso said weakly, leaning back on the bed. "Muthsera-"_

_"Help us," The woman said and her voice belied the strength of her body. "Please, help us." Then she too collapsed._

* * *

The man in the golden mask was speaking, but she couldn't understand a word. The harder she strained, the more difficult it became and she had to wonder if he was making a sound at all. He smiled (_how do I know he's smiling he's wearing a mask and how do I know his FACE) _and his body language seemed friendly. Then he reached out to touch her and terror crept over her like a wave of ice-cold water. But she couldn't move. Her flesh was creeping. She tried to scream, but her mouth felt welded shut. No sound escaped. The figure kept smiling (_oh Divines that SMILE_) and talking (_is it some kind of spell oh why can't I wake up from this dream_)

* * *

"Dream."

"Sera?"

Llovesi felt a cool hand lift from her forehead and she jerked upright. "I, what..." She tried to clear her head. "Julan, where's Julan?"

The Dunmer healer stepped back. "Your friend? He's sleeping over there. I've examined him and there's nothing wrong _physically_, he just keeps muttering nonsense. I think he's exhausted – sera, what are you doing?" For Llovesi had kicked off the bed covers and was moving over to the bed where Julan slept.

The healer grabbed her arm.

"Sera, please, just let him sleep. I'm sure he'll wake soon and then we'll see how he feels. I don't think you should be up and about either, we had to treat you for Blight disease... just what in Vivec's name were you _doing _on the mountain? The Armigers said they saw you coming in..."

Llovesi shook the woman off and sat by Julan's bed with her head in her hands.

Presently, he moaned and pushed himself up from the bed. "Uh... where am I?"

"Ghostgate." Llovesi smiled weakly then glanced at the healer. She bowed her head and left the room, leaving them in relative privacy.

"Ghostgate? But how... oh Gods my head... my brain feels like it's full of dust and ash. My memories, they're all mixed up. I think I dreamed that we were climbing Red Mountain."

"Well, that's probably because we were."

"We did climb the mountain? Oh yes... but it was so like my dreams. Except I could hear what the voices were saying this time."

"What were they saying?"

"Well, I didn't recognise all of them. But one, one was Dagoth Ur. I don't know how I knew that, I just did."

Llovesi nodded. It was like how she knew the masked man was smiling. _Wait, where did that thought come from?_

Julan continued. "He was mocking me. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. But what happened next?"

"You, uh, shouted a lot. Then fainted. I brought you back here." _Gods know how_.

"I fainted? But that's not what I – ah, so that part was my dream. Gah, it's all so mixed up."

"What do you remember?"

"Oh, not much. It's not important. So, you saved me again. That's what's important – I failed. I'm still not ready. Maybe I never will be." He sunk back on the pillow and covered his face with his hands.

"Oh, don't say that-"

"Ai, but it's true. Maybe I should just go home and herd guar. It seems it's all I'm fit for." His voice choked beneath his hands and Llovesi thought he might be crying.

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. These things take time. I know."

He lowered his hands and gave her a half-smile. "Thanks. I'm glad one of us believes in me. But, what should I do next?"

Llovesi shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Train some more maybe?"

Julan nodded. "Well, yes, but although you have helped me and I thank you for that, I think I need a new input." He sighed and moved to a sitting position on the side of the bed. "There is another option I've been avoiding, but I have no choice. I should go home and ask my mother for advice."

Llovesi's heart sunk a little. His mother. Julan had talked about her a little, and to Llovesi's ears she sounded completely terrifying. An outcast Mabrigash, an Ashlander witch, who had forced Julan to give up any life that wasn't dominated by this secret mission. _Ah, yes, about that_...

"Julan, there's something else..." she asked hesitantly.

"What is it?"

"Well, when we were on the mountain and you were yelling at the voices..."

"Uh, yes?"

"You said that you were Indoril Nerevar reborn."

Julan's face was a mask. "... Did I?" he said, his voice sounding carefully free of emotion.

"Yes."

"Ah."

He was being deliberately evasive again.

Llovesi crossed her arms. "Well. Care to explain this one?"

"Not really, no. But I guess you won't let it drop. Gah! You're tenacious! Okay, okay." He drew his hands down his face in exasperation. "I will tell you. But not right now. I'm tired and my head hurts."

"All right. I won't let you forget it, though." Llovesi gave him a half-smile.

Julan smiled weakly in response, then stood up. "Okay, how do you feel about a bit of a walk? Our camp is just west of the Ahemmusa Camp, over the hills. Let's head to Vos first. It's the quickest way, and I want to stop off at the Tradehouse. I think I should get my mother a gift, to sweeten her temper. She's not going to like what I've been doing. At all."

"Ok." Llovesi said, but inside she was troubled. What kind of woman was this, to encourage her son to seek out certain death and be angry when he returned alive?

"Actually," Julan said, turning his head to one side, "let's stop by a tavern first. I _really_ need a drink."

Llovesi smiled properly this time as they left Ghostgate. This was the Julan she knew and loved. She tried to push the images of him raving on the mountain from her mind, but she worried that they would be burnt there forever.


	12. An End to a Start

_**Chapter 11: An End to a Start**_

They went straight to the Ald Skar Inn, but the mood turned out to be haunted by the ghost of recent events. Besides, there was a new piece of rumour on everyone's lips.

"They say that Vvardenfell has been placed under quarantine..."

"... not true they would never..."

"My brother, he's in the Legion, he says..."

"... what about the trade... bunch of kwama eggs to deliver to the mainland..."

Llovesi approached Boderi behind the bar. "Is it true?" she asked.

The Dunmer woman leant forward and sighed. "I'm afraid it is. The guards posted a notice this morning. I just think people can't quite believe it yet. You could have an island the size of the Empire itself, but tell people they can't leave it and they're going to feel trapped no matter what. This is bad, you mark my words. First the Empire forces its way into our land, now they abandon us in our time of need."

She left to serve another customer, and Llovesi looked at Julan glumly.

"Come on," he said, looking round at the quiet room where the customers sat talking in hushed tones, "let's try the Rat in the Pot, it might be livelier there."

It was, but not by much. Llovesi and Julan sat down with a bottle of greef between them. Julan swallowed some of the liquid and coughed. "Ah, that's better."

Llovesi lifted her glass to do the same, but suddenly she was cuffed about the back of the head, and her glass went flying.

"There you are!"

Llovesi stood up so fast her chair fell over, and grabbed her assailant by the shirt. It was Ren.

"Outside," Llovesi growled.

"So, what in Oblivion do you want?" she shouted once outside, ignoring the surprised glances of people in the street. "Is it a fight you're after? Because, let me warn you, I'm spoiling for one right now!"

Ren laughed sarcastically. "Oh, that's rich! So you have problems too? You broke Clause's heart!"

Llovesi's mouth fell open. "Don't be ridiculous. He was the one who broke up with me! For very little reason I might add. Nearly a month ago as well. If I can get over it, so can he. What business is it of yours anyway?"

"Because he's my brother! And he keeps going missing!"

"Oh, so you thought you'd come and find me? I'm not hiding him, I promise you. And assaulting me isn't the best way to get me on side!"

The Breton woman looked suddenly desperate. "I don't know what to do! He gets so involved with women and when I try to give him a little perspective he loses it! He treats them like projects, like people he needs to fix and when it fizzles out or they leave he just throws himself back into his work. He's become so devoted to his healing now; he travels all over the place. I think he thinks he's going to find the cure for Corprus or some guardung like that! But he keeps disappearing for longer and longer periods of time-"

"Ren, listen. Clause made the decision to walk out of my life weeks ago. So I have walked out of his. I have other things to be getting on with," she said, glancing at Julan, who'd slipped out to watch the fight. It was harsh but true. Any other option hurt too much.

Ren drew herself up to her fullest height and stared up at Llovesi, her lip trembling. "If I had known, all those months ago in Balmora, what you would end up causing, I would have never let you leave the South Wall Cornerclub." She drew a furious gesture across her body and disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Llovesi feeling dumbfounded and a little guilty.

"So," Julan said, "what in Oblivion was all that about?"

"Crazy sister of ex-boyfriend. Not much more to explain really."

"Hmm." Julan smiled cheekily. "For a moment I thought I was going to see something exciting." He dodged the half-hearted thump Llovesi sent in his direction. "Well, it looks like we're learning more and more about each other every day."

"Yes. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten your promise of an explanation."

Julan looked suddenly tense again. "Not here okay. Wait until we get to Vos. Speaking of which..."

They set off towards the Mages Guild.

* * *

The journey across Vvardenfell was long, in distance if not time. They took the guild guide to Wolverine Hall, an Imperial fortress on the outskirts of Sadrith Mora, a town that was as hostile as it was beautifully exotic.

They wandered through the mushroom forest (which, Julan explained, was actually the translation of the city's name into Tamrielic) as Telvanni guards in closed helms watched them pass. Llovesi was glad to be on the boat to Tel Mora, even if it meant several hours on the rough Sea of Ghosts, but the town turned out to be just as hostile as the former, for a different reason.

"Llovesi, men aren't exactly welcome here," Julan whispered anxiously as they walked through the docks. "One of Mistress Dratha's eccentricities apparently. It's just a short swim over to Vos." For the woman at the lone docked ship was staring at them, arms folded and eyes narrowed.

"I'm not going in the water, it's Evening Star, it'll be freezing!"

"Well come here and let me cast water walking on you then."

He had to try a few times, as Llovesi's natural tendency to absorb magicka cast by others reared its irritating head, but finally they set off as twilight deepened around them.

"There," Julan said, pointing.

Another mushroom tree dwelling towered before them, illuminated by the stars and the blue lanterns that hung from its boughs. Behind it, Llovesi could dimly make out a Velothi village on the hill, walled in and quiet.

"This is the Varo Tradehouse," Julan said, stepping lightly from the water to the docks. "Come on, there's a trader called Lleris Amryn who normally hangs around inside. Mother does a lot of business through him, he might have something she'd like."

He led her up a carved, spiralling branch and through a round wooden door. Inside, the room was hollowed out and slightly musty-smelling, but the walls were a gorgeous shade of swirling walnut. _So this is what it's like to be in a living building_.

An Imperial man standing behind the bar watched them politely. The room was otherwise empty.

"Hmm," Julan said. "Maybe he's upstairs. Llovesi, can you get us a room? I think it would be best to stay here tonight. Ah... Lleris!"

Just as Llovesi handed over ten drakes to the Imperial, a Dunmer man with oiled red hair and wearing an ornate purple robe swept down the stairs.

"Why Julan, hello. I haven't seen you in a long while! How is your lovely mother? And who is your new friend?"

"Lleris, this is Llovesi. It's about my mother that I'm here actually. I was hoping to get her a gift."

"Ah, a present for the esteemed Mashti, is it? I may have something suitable. As it happens I just obtained a rather valuable and powerful item. Follow me upstairs and we'll do business." He led them over to a trunk at the bar of the upstairs dining area and unlocked it magically.

"Here - a Twilightbalm amulet. Might that suit the lady?"

It certainly was exquisite, a large golden semi-circle set with a large green stone surrounded by smaller purple and blue stones round the edge. It shimmered with a powerful magical aura. Lleris passed it to Julan who turned it in his hands, letting it catch the light.

"Ah, yes, it's perfect," he said.

"Only one thousand gold pieces," Lleris said, and grinned. "A bargain for such a powerful piece."

"Ah... I don't have that kind of money, or um, well, any money really. Llovesi?" Julan turned to her, his face desperate.

Llovesi sighed, and took her coin purse from her belt. She tipped the contents into her hand and found twenty fifty-septim pieces. Then she put the nearly empty pouch back on her belt and passed the money into Lleris's waiting hands.

"Thank you, it's a pleasure to be of service," he said smoothly. "Do give Mashti my regards when you see her, wont you?"

He bowed his head then relocked the chest and descended the stairs once more. Llovesi and Julan went to the room she had rented, and sat on the bed.

"Thank you, Llovesi," Julan said, examining the amulet once more before stashing it in his cuirass. "This should really help me get back on her good side. You're a real friend. I think it's time I told you the whole story about myself and my mission, if you still want to know."

Llovesi had kicked off her boots and lain down on the bed, but now she sat bolt upright.

"I'm listening," she said.

"The first thing you should know is that my mother is not actually my mother by birth," Julan began. "No one has any idea who my real parents are. Azura sent mother a dream, telling her to follow a black kagouti into the Grazelands. She found me: a baby in the shadow of some rocks. Azura told her that her task would be to raise as me as a warrior for an important destiny."

"Was she still living in the camp then?" Llovesi wondered what the rest of the tribe would have made of the mysterious prophecy.

"No, she'd just been exiled. Azura told her that her fate was to be left alone so she could concentrate on my upbringing."

"Why was she exiled?"

"I don't know; it was before I was born of course. Something to do with tribal politics. I think she upset some important people. If you really want to know you could ask her, but I doubt she'd tell you. She doesn't like to talk about it. I used to play in the camp as a child and I heard all sorts of lies – vicious, untrue rumours."

"So, how does this tie into you being the Nerevarine?" Llovesi could hardly believe it. All this time she'd spent researching the mystical figure and he turned out to be her travelling companion.

"Ah yes, well you know who Indoril Nerevar was yes? Of course you do, you've been doing all that research for that Cauis." Julan looked briefly annoyed again. "Well, all the things you've found out, they're true. Nerevar was murdered by Sotha Sil, Almalexia and Vivec. Azura foretold that his spirit would be reborn to avenge his death, and set things right in Morrowind: destroy Dagoth Ur and the profane source of the Tribunal's false stolen Godhood."

"And this is you?"

"I know it sounds unbelievable. I found it hard to believe myself at first. But Azura has revealed her will and explained what must be done. I have a responsibility to fulfil. Even if it seems impossible I must try, for who could oppose Azura?" _Who indeed._ Llovesi thought of all she had read about the Good Daedra and shivered. She didn't sound that 'good'.

"Azura's real then? And she speaks to you?"

Julan stared at her. "Of course she's real, she as real as any of your Nine Divines! But no, she doesn't speak to me directly. She contacts mother through dreams and visions. That's why I need to go home, I need to consult her wisdom. Azura will advise her what I – we – should do next." He lay back and sighed, then propped himself up on one elbow to look at her. "I know I've been secretive but I have my reasons. If they knew, the Tribunal and the Temple would hunt me down and destroy me, like they have done throughout the past. So would the Emperor – the Nerevarine means a free Morrowind. That's why I've been so worried about your Imperial friend. No one can know."

Llovesi looked at his earnest face and felt herself start to believe him. But a worry niggled in the back of her head. If the Nerevarine was such a threat, was this linked to her spying, and what the Emperor wanted from her? What if her final duty would be to join in the hunt to destroy the Nerevarine? _I will never let that happen. I'll choose a different destiny._

"I won't tell anyone," she said. "And for what it's worth, I believe you."

Julan smiled. "Thank you, but I'm not asking for your faith, I'm asking for your secrecy. And, maybe also... um, I'm not used to asking for help, it's always just been mother and me, but... if you-"

"Julan, you know I'll help with whatever you need."

He grinned widely. "Thank you. For everything. One of these days I swear I'll do something you can thank me for."

He blew out the candle and they slept. A deep, and mercifully dreamless, sleep.


	13. New Input

_**Chapter 12: New Input**_

Contrary to habit, Julan got up first. Llovesi woke to see him fully dressed and pacing nervously in the small room they had shared. "Come on," he said. "We'd better go."

He went to eat breakfast while Llovesi pulled her clothes on. She found him with a half-eaten kwama egg, picking at the yolk.

"Julan, are you okay with this?" Llovesi asked as they left the tradehouse.

"Yes! Well no... I don't have much choice. Look, I'm not looking forward to it, but I'd rather get it over with."

They walked north, passing what looked like an Imperial fort that had been infested with the mushroom trees. "Tel Vos," Julan said.

Llovesi declined to ask.

They walked for hours meeting no one but herds of guar, but even those were few and far between. She enjoyed seeing the green rolling hills and long, swaying grass of the Grazelands after all the ash and mud of Ald'ruhn and Ghostgate. They crested another hill and Julan held his hand up to stop her.

"Look," he said. "The Ahemmusa Camp."

It stretched large beneath them: a group of large yurts in a circle. Llovesi could make out an Ashlander cooking, two chatting with each other, and some children playing in water springs. But there weren't many of them, and she wondered where most of the camp was. The sound of wind chimes was carried across on the breeze. Llovesi thought it looked one of the most welcoming places she had seen in weeks, despite its relative emptiness, but Julan held her back.

"We can't go down," he said. "I'm an outcast, and you're an outlander. Trust me, it wouldn't go down well. We head west from here, over that hill – oh hells!"

A small group of Ashlanders was walking towards them from the direction he had pointed in. They were dressed as the others from the camp, feathers and beads in their hair, tattoos, animal hides and warm furs now that winter had drawn in. They were armed with bows, spears, and shields and carried large packs of animal hides and meat between them.

They passed Llovesi and Julan on their way down to the camp, staring at them with open hostility.

"Julan!"

One of the Ashlanders had detached herself from the rest of the group and she sprinted over, dropping her shield and spear and tackling him to the ground.

"Hello, Shani." Julan said flatly from the ground as she hugged him. They both stood up. Shani was small and slim and pretty with delicate features in a heart-shaped face. Her ruby-red hair was tied in a messy plait down her back and she stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes twinkling.

"They told me you'd gone to Red Mountain! I see you've changed your mind, I'm so glad!" Then her smile faltered slightly. "You _have_ changed your mind, haven't you? You're not still a _complete_ idiot?"

"Of course I haven't changed my mind," Julan said shortly. "I'm just training a bit more before – oh stop looking at me like that!"

"Yeah? Well you'd better run home before your dear mother catches us talking!" She stuck her chin up at him, nodded curtly at Llovesi and ran back to the rest of the group who'd stopped to watch.

"Sheogorath, you never let up!" Julan yelled after her.

A woman stepped forward, her face almost black with tattoos. "Get out of here you two! _He_ is not welcome. Now! Before Ahmabi sees!"

Julan sighed as they climbed over the hill, keeping a nearby Daedric ruin at a safe distance. "Same old Shani. Why can't she listen? You listen, don't you? Sometimes I don't know what I saw in her at all."

Llovesi kept silent. The whole encounter had been very awkward, but she'd got the impression Shani cared for Julan. Unfortunately this affection ran hand in hand with a hot temper. She thought she could see more than a little of herself in that, so she said nothing.

Julan skidded down the grassy hill to the beach, crunching on shells and stones. "Right, our camp is very near here. A group of tents with skulls outside. Er, don't worry about that, it's mother's idea of a joke... I think..."

Sure enough, over the next dune, Llovesi could make out three yurts and some bleached skulls, picked clean of flesh, on spikes rising from the ground. The yurt closest to them had its opening tied back, and a woman was sitting by the roaring fire on the beach, cooking something on a spit.

She jumped to her feet as they approached, her hands crackling with electricity.

"Who are you!? What are you doing here with my son? I warn you, if you DARE-"

Julan stepped forward quickly, drawing the amulet from his cuirass and holding it out as if it were a ward.

"Mother, calm down. Look I've bought you a gift."

Mashti dropped the spell and glared suspiciously at Llovesi. She was a lot younger than Llovesi had expected; she tended to associate the idea of witches (mabrigash, Julan had said) with old woman with white hair and a mean cackle. Mashti stood young and tall, her face smooth and her black hair braided back from her head, barefoot despite the cold.

"Let me explain," Julan was saying. "Llovesi, why don't you go light the fire in the, um, guest yurt." He gestured to the middle yurt. "Make yourself comfortable, that's where you'll be sleeping tonight."

He led his mother as if he were guiding a pet Daedroth to the yurt with the skulls outside, and the cloth door fell shut behind them.

Llovesi opened the cloth entrance to the yurt Julan had indicated. "Guest yurt?" she snorted. "And Talos is a winged twilight."

It was stacked with sacks and crates, but at least it was clean and dry. She found a tinderbox and set about lighting the fire like Julan had asked. _Not scary at all, not going to burn anything down... _She moved her hands closer to try and warm away the numbness.

The sounds of a heated argument came muffled through the fabric wall as the fire burned stronger. What if this all went wrong? What if she fell asleep only for Mashti to turn her into a rat or something? She lay back on the bedroll and tried to distract herself by casting some harmless spells she had been trying to learn. _A light spell, that will do._

She watched the ball of soft light rise from her fingertips and smiled in delight as it floated about the yurt. _I'm doing it, I'm actually doing it... oh no._ The ball was growing bigger and bigger, impossibly so. It filled the tent with white light then extinguished, leaving the tent to the shadows of the fire and leaving Llovesi drained, depressed and moreover, frustrated. Why couldn't she do it? All the practising over the last month and still she had all the control of her thirteen year-old self.

Silence descended and she realised that the argument in the other yurt had stopped. She left the yurt and saw Julan burst out of his mother's, breathing hard.

"Ah, Llovesi. Mother and I have talked things over and we've, um, _agreed_ that Azura should be consulted. She's not happy about your involvement but agrees that you may be able to help. She will seek Azura's guidance. This means a ritual to summon the Daedra Prince in a dream. Mother has to make prayers and incantations to receive the vision. I'd better go back and help her prepare. You can do what you want. Maybe get some rest. See you in the morning."

Llovesi sat on the beach and watched a mudcrab scuttle slowly along the sand. The stars burst into life above her one by one and her stomach growled. Pulling some dried provisions from her pack she returned to the storage yurt to eat. The fire had kindled low, so she built it up with more wood then undressed for bed.

* * *

"Llovesi?"

She struggled up and blinked into darkness. The fire had long gone out and the yurt was dark and cold. She could make out Julan's eyes glowing dimly in the darkness.

"Julan?"

"Llovesi... um, are you awake?"

"No," she said crossly. "I'm currently communicating with you telepathically, it's one of my many talents."

"Right, um, sorry, stupid question..."

Llovesi lit a match and held it between them. Julan's face was drawn and sickly looking, his cheeks covered in dark stubble. He padded over to her barefoot and sat down, shivering.

"Julan, are you okay?" Llovesi asked, all sarcasm and sleepiness gone, and threw her blanket over his shoulders. "Divines, you look terrible!"

"No, not really... I, I think I'm going mad."

"What do you mean, 'you think you're going mad'?"

"Just that. I had another dream. It was horrible. Worse. I wasn't climbing Red Mountain any more, I was in this cavern." He hugged his knees to his chest as he spoke to the floor. "There were these Ash Priest things standing around, whispering, whispering horrible things. And I could see, _feel_ my skin rotting, growing monstrous, and not just my body but my mind too."

"That sounds... unpleasant."

"It was. I felt them crawling around in my mind trying to change who I am, trying to change everything I believe in into something horrible and depraved, eating away at my identity until there was nothing left except what they had put there. When I woke I swore I could see them in flashes, the Ash Priest things, out of the corner of my eye. But when I looked again they were gone. I felt like I was losing it."

Llovesi remembered the harrowing night she had spent in the Halfway Inn in Pelagiad after her first disturbing dream, searching the dark room in a cold sweat. She empathised with Julan more than she ever had before.

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I can't talk to mother obviously. She's deep in the dream-prayer. Maybe it's nothing, but it didn't feel like nothing. I felt so alone; I had to talk to someone. I hate to admit it, but I'm scared. How can I fight? How do you fight something like that?"

"I don't know."

"I don't want to go mad, and if Dagoth Ur wants my mind I won't go quietly! But, what if I'm not strong enough?"

"You will be," Llovesi said, and she placed her arm around his shoulders. "I won't let you go."

Julan smiled and leant his head on her shoulder. "Thanks," he said, "I feel better knowing that. And you can rely on me, if there's ever anything I can do."

And he tilted his head to the side and kissed her on the neck. They both froze for a moment. _Did that just happen?_

Julan pulled away slightly, his eyes wide. "Llovesi, I-"

She'd let this happen before, a man kiss her and apologise. Maybe she was giving off the wrong signals? Maybe they thought she didn't want to? But this was Julan, a man she'd come to share her most intimate secrets with in the short month that she'd known him. She wanted to. She could show him that.

She leant over and kissed him full on the mouth. He hesitated, then placed a hand on her waist. The other was in her hair, stroking, and tilting her head back gently. His stubble was rough against her chin but his hair was surprisingly soft and she ran her fingers through it in return. She felt his warmth and knew in that moment that if they could have this, if they could have each other, then everything would be more bearable.

Julan pulled away and sighed. "I hate to say it," and his voice was low, "but I should probably go back to my own yurt. Because," and he kissed her again, briefly on the lips, "you're lovely. And if we carry on doing this I might not want to stop, and I _really_ don't want to rush things and spoil everything."

"Good night then, Julan."

"Good night." He let her warm hand drop back to the roll mat and left the tent into cold starlight.

* * *

The next morning Llovesi rolled out of the blankets stiffly and stamped life back into her feet. Mashti was outside, hanging wet clothes onto a line near the fire. She gave Llovesi a mistrustful look. Llovesi responded with an awkward wave, then turned to the last yurt, presumably Julan's.

Lacking a way of knocking she peeled back the cloth entrance gingerly and peered inside. "Julan?"

He was spread-eagled on a roll mat, snoring lightly. The yurt was strewn with clothes, armour, books, bottles... Caius's house paled in comparison really.

"Llovesi!" Julan jerked awake. "Er, don't come in here! I'll be out in just a second!"

He joined her on the beach, hurriedly trying to pull on his cuirass and boots at the same time.

Mashti straightened up and looked at them both haughtily. "Outlander. Julan. I would speak with you both in my yurt, for over the night I have received Azura's guidance."

They glanced at each other nervously and followed her.

In the yurt, Mashti bade them both sit in front of her, like naughty children.

"I have spoken with the Daedric Prince who guides me in all matters concerning my son," she began, "she informed me that you can be trusted and that you may yet even be important to the fulfilment of the prophecies. My son has chosen to disclose to you the secrets of his mission." At this she shot Julan another look, and he lowered his head. "Outlander, you cannot hope to comprehend its importance to this land, but I hope for your sake that you will try. The Gods deal harshly with those who would stand in the way of destiny.

"I understand that you have been training my son. In faith, I myself can see the improvement. Perhaps it is that you have been chosen to aid him on this difficult journey. If so, you have a choice. You can continue to support him as he carries out his work of destiny, and be rewarded with all the gifts that the Gods bestow."

"Or?" Llovesi asked, and her mouth was dry.

"Or," Mashti continued in the same cold tone, "you can betray him, and I will cast down the curses of a thousand vengeful ancestors upon you to hound you waking and sleeping to the end of your brief, miserable life."

"I see." _By the Divines, she knows how to make a threat._

"Good, I am glad we understand each other. Continue to train then. Quest together as travelling adventurers. My son needs experience of the world, and you can offer him that. I will contact you again when the time is right."

She reached beside her and retrieved a small box.

"These," she said, opening it to reveal two carved rings, "are rings that will allow you both to communicate with each other via a spiritual link. They will also enable you to travel to one another's position in much the same way as Mark and Recall, as well as to return here, when the need arises. Go now."

Llovesi wasn't sure what she felt about letting Julan into her head. _But no, it'll be fine_, she reasoned with herself. She was a different Dunmer to the paranoid, rude and ignorant Dark Elf that had stepped off the boat in Last Seed.

They took their rings and thanked Mashti. Then Julan whispered in Llovesi's ear: "Come on, before she changes her mind!"

Outside he slipped the ring on his middle finger and laughed. "Great. That went better than I thought! So Azura thinks you're okay? Heh, she should know I guess. And now we get to go adventuring together! What shall we do? There must be something I've been keeping you from."

"Julan don't worry, it's only been a couple of days! Although, I did want to throw these rags away and get some warmer clothes, but most of my money is gone..."

"Oh yeah, sorry about that. I'll pay you back, I swear!"

Llovesi grinned. "What I was going to suggest," she said, "is some good old-fashioned guild work. Come on, I've been wanting to meet this Hrundi for a while!"


	14. Below the Surface

_**Chapter 13: Below the Surface**_

Hrundi had been waiting to meet her as well. A burly, effusive Nord, he clapped them both on the back and roared with laughter.

"Llovesi and friend! Percius has told me good things about you. Very conscientious apparently! I hope so, because I'll have challenges for you that require wits as well as a sharp blade!"

"Ouch!" Julan winced, once he'd given them their first mission and was out of earshot. "Do all Nords shout like that?"

They wandered back through the fort to the town and harbour, for they needed to take a boat to Molag Mar, the nearest town to the ruin of Nchurdamz, where they were being sent (and even then they would need a two-day hike to finish their journey).

"Llovesi?" Julan caught her hand as they passed through the great round gate at the entrance of town. "Can we talk a moment?"

"Sure, what's on your mind?"

"It's about what happened between us the other night. I need to know where I stand. Because... I'd hate to think it was a one off but I don't know how you feel. I don't want to make a fool of myself if you're not interested."

Llovesi smiled and took his hand. "Of course I'm interested! I kissed you, didn't I?"

Julan grinned. "Well, yeah, you did. In fact, no one's ever kissed me quite like that before. Look, to be honest, I'm really in no position to get involved with anyone. My mission is too important and it's caused trouble in the past. I can't let it get too serious... but there's just something about you. I don't know. I'm intrigued."

"Julan, it's fine you know. I didn't propose marriage the other night! Let's just see how things go okay?"

"Yes, yes, but... I have to know. There's not anyone else is there?"

"Of course not!"

"But that Clause..."

"Julan. You heard, that's over. Forgotten. I haven't seen him in a month," she said firmly. "I'm trying to work out if your paranoia is touching or concerning. Or both."

Julan had the grace to look apologetic. "I'm sorry, I just don't like to think I'd have to share. Now, come here..." He moved closer, but Llovesi held him back.

"Hang on," she said. "If we're talking exes, are you and Shani really over?"

"What? Of course! I've barely spoken to the girl in two years! Oh look, I know what you mean. I never really sorted things out properly with her. I hurt her; she hates me, that bothers me. I wish things had ended differently, but that doesn't mean I'm sorry we broke up, or I want her back. I don't. It would have never worked out. I wish we'd stayed friends, that's all. Will you kiss me now?"

"I suppose!"

"It's about time!"

Llovesi laughed and pulled him close. They heard an irritated cough and a mage strode past. They looked at each other in confusion and laughed. _Back to reality_, Llovesi thought. _It always finds a way. _They left to board the ship going to Tel Branora, a long trip, but with the promise of adventure when they finally reached their destination.

* * *

"Rels Tenim? The bandit? I don't know where he is, but check with the Ahemmusa."

"He headed north. Ask around the Ahemmusa Camp."

It was the same response every time. Llovesi thanked the farmer she had just questioned and turned to Julan.

"So, just how much of an exile are you again?" she asked.

"The 'I-think-you'd-be-better-off-going-alone' kind? I'm really not welcome there."

"Can you wait in Vos while I ask around then?" Llovesi asked. "I'll use the ring to contact you when I find out."

"Sure. Just not try to be gone too long! I get so bored waiting around!" Julan gave her a cheeky grin and headed off in the direction of the Varo Tradehouse. Llovesi shouldered her pack, heavier now that she and Julan carried a tent between them, checked her map and headed north.

The tent was not the only new thing they had acquired over the past week and a half. Hrundi had sent them to far-flung wilderness locations, ripe with undiscovered treasures – and dangers. Llovesi and Julan were stronger now, though, so the challenges they met were tough, but not unwelcome.

Llovesi smiled as she strode quickly through the long dewy grass. There had been Hrevelsuu the ancient Daedroth in the ruins of Nchurdamz and Larienna Macrina – what a character. She had that encounter to thank for the enchanted Dwemer spear now on her back. Then Nix-Hounds in the Dissapla Mine and the Corprus beast in Tel Mora – there hadn't been a dull moment. It was made even better by Julan's company. Julan: stubborn, proud but dry and funny too, charming and quick to help. She felt a connection with him, built on trust and shared experience, that she valued intensely. The only problem was her lack of honesty regarding her work for Caius. She knew he would flip if he found she was a spy, in fact he probably had every right to, but what choice did she have? She wasn't going back to prison.

Caius's deadline now settled in her mind like a doom-laden drumbeat. She and Julan had avoided talking about him being the Nerevarine; it wasn't the most enjoyable of topics after all, but she supposed that whatever information-gathering quest Caius sent her on next would just drag it all up again. Time was her ally, and her enemy.

There was the Ahemmusa Camp stretching out beneath her. It was active; the few Ashlanders she could see were covering the yurts in extra furs and skins to ward off the cold spell, or sitting sharpening weapons, cleaning tools, repairing clothes. She nodded respectfully at one as she came close to the camp. The man returned the look, and then continued to play with his daughter. This encouraged Llovesi; a polite distance certainly beat covert hostility by a long shot. The mood in the camp was somewhat oppressive however, and she felt a sort of quiet sadness in the air. As Llovesi looked around for someone reasonably friendly-looking to approach, she was tapped on the back.

"You're the outlander travelling with Julan Kaushibael, aren't you?"

It was Shani, her long red hair loose and plaited with feathers and beads this time, looking up at Llovesi with, well, not open hostility exactly but it was close.

"Yes, er, Shani? It's Llovesi." She held out her hand, but Shani just looked at it.

"Not with you today? I'm surprised. I thought you were joined at the hip." She sniffed. "So, you want me to discuss him behind his back is that it?"

"No, actually I-"

"So I bet he's told you all about me," Shani powered on, and it dawned on Llovesi that maybe she just wanted to get something off her chest, so she forgot Rels Tenim for the moment and listened.

"Yes, aha, I bet he said I was clingy, demanding, I argued, I compared his lovely mother to a Hunger except without the charm and good looks, oh and I'm a cheat, liar, thief and troublemaker." She ticked each item off her fingers sarcastically.

"He didn't actually."

"Really." Shani looked genuinely surprised. "You should've heard some of the things he did say. Oh, it's just so sad, Llovesi." Her whole demeanour broke down suddenly, and she was just a young woman, with the cloud of a painful memory hanging over her. Llovesi patted her on the arm, probably slightly awkwardly, but Shani didn't seem to mind.

"Thank you. We were best friends first you know, then lovers, Perhaps that was the mistake. Maybe we should have stayed friends, but it's too late now. Everything is broken, I'm a fool to still be here!" She gestured wildly at the camp around her.

"Why are you still here?"

"Because of him!" Shani shouted. "Because he's making a terrible mistake! Because his mother is a lunatic and she's going to make him do something suicidally insane! He won't believe me," she sniffed loudly, "he barely even looks at me. I have to try because, because even if he acts like a complete idiot and is horrible to me, he's, he's still my best friend and... I miss him!" She choked back a sob.

Llovesi looked at her with concern. "Are you okay? Do you want to sit down somewhere?"

Shani shook her head and dried her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm sorry, I'm fine really. Please don't tell Julan I said any of that, he'll only get angry and I don't want him to think I care. I still have some pride left. Thank you for listening though, you didn't have to. It was nice of you. There's no one here I can talk to. You will look after him won't you? I'm scared for him, but I'm glad to know he has a friend." She shook her head sadly.

Llovesi touched her arm gently, feeling a little guilty about the fact that she and Julan were definitely more than friends now. "But, what's this terrible mistake he's making? Is it to do with his, uh, 'sacred mission'?"

Shani looked her up and down. "So, he's told you then? About being the Nerevarine? And all that stuff about being found in the wilderness as a baby? Hah. Babies don't come from rocks, whatever Mashti says."

"Wait, so you don't believe their story?"

Shani snorted. "Of course I don't. That's because I know what really happened. Mashti knows I know, she made Julan break up with me when she realised I'd found out. She was afraid I'd convince Julan, but that idiot buys anything she tells him."

"So what did happen?"

Shani looked around cautiously. "I can't tell you here," she whispered. "I shouldn't even be talking about him in the first place. If Ahmabi heard she'd go mad. She was the one that banished Mashti in the first place, and she's banned all talk about them. Look, I'm leaving with the hunt soon. I'm not sure when I'll be back, but when I am I'll send word to the Varo Tradehouse, and we can meet up and talk if you want to. You probably should know if you going to be travelling with him."

She smiled at Llovesi, and it lit up her face with warmth. "You're all right you know, Llovesi."

"Thanks. You're okay yourself." Llovesi turned to go, then remembered why she'd come in the first place. "Shani, have you heard of, or seen, the bandit Rels Tenim?"

Shani looked surprised. "Is that why you came here? Oh Gods, and I blathered on for ages about Julan! And you listened!" She laughed. "I don't know, but ask Rakeem over there, he's often on watch and should know if any strangers passed through."

Llovesi approached Rakeem, who was sharpening his dagger with a whetstone. He considered her question, then replied:

"A man pass through a few nights ago, yes. And then went to the cavern of Shallit, near old ruin Ald Daedroth. He leave at night when neither Masser nor Secunda could be seen. Perhaps this is the man you seek. I tell you how to get there. Cross the water to the first island north of camp. From that island, travel northwest, two more islands. On the second island's north side, entrance to Shallit is by water's edge, in a small cove."

Llovesi thanked him, and moved to touch her ring and call Julan, but something made her hesitate. What Shani had said bothered her. She couldn't talk to Julan, she couldn't talk to Shani, but... she _could _talk to Mashti. It was bold to even consider it, would be even more foolish to actually... _but I could, couldn't I?_ If there was one thing she'd learnt over the past three months it was how to talk to people. Still, she should go prepared...

* * *

An hour later, she stood on the sandy inlet outside Mashti's yurt. She held in her hands the heart of a freshly killed Dremora, slain in the nearby ruins of Kushtashpi. She hoped that such a valuable alchemical ingredient would stand her in good stead with the mabrigash.

Mashti was sitting, stirring a potion as she entered. She looked up, but did not seem angry.

"What, outlander? You have returned here, but what more can I tell you?"

"With respect, Mashti, I wish to know more about you."

Mashti looked surprised, and inexplicably sad. "That may be outlander," she said, sitting back from her potion and covering it, "but maybe I do not wish to discuss it with such a one as you."

Llovesi knelt opposite her and presented the heart to her. "A Daedra heart. I hope you accept this gift and, er, my humbleness. I only wish to learn more about to the mother of my friend."

Mahsti took the heart and gave her an appraising look. "Thank you, outlander. You would know my past? Very well. I was born to the Urshilaku, and I was respected there for my father was the chief of the tribe and my mother was a high-born Redoran slave-bride that he took in a raid. But one day, men of the Ahemmusa came on a trading mission. The spirits whispered to me that my destiny lay with them, so when they left the camp, I went with them.

"When my father discovered I was gone he was furious. I was barely eighteen and he had pledged me as a bride to one of his gulakhans. He disowned me, I never saw him, my mother or my home again. But my life with the Ahemmusa was not much happier. I trained in the ways of the wise women, and I was skilled. Too skilled. The petty jealousy of others made me an exile. I do not like to speak of this, for even though it was long ago, wounds to the heart and honour do not heal. There are those who I can never forgive, and those whom I would have forgiven had they but asked. It is too late now. Ai, leave me now outlander for I wish to be alone."

She sounded suddenly so despondent and bitter that Llovesi bowed and left in silence.

So there was more to Julan and Mashti's story than met the eye. But what should she do about it? She wasn't convinced that it was any of her business, other than protecting Julan. Besides, they had training to focus on – it was highly unlikely that he would want to return to Red Mountain so soon. She could ask the Urshilaku about Mashti, but she had no idea where they camped, and she thought Julan would find it highly suspicious that she suddenly wanted to visit an Ashlander camp. No, best to get on with the task at hand. She twisted the ring on her finger.

_Julan?_

_Oh hi, Llovesi! Hihihi! You made me jump!_

... Are_ you drunk?_

_No! Well, maybe I had a few... but not too many... we've got to go get Tels Renim! Rels Tenim!_

_Just come here._

He popped into existence in front of her and frowned.

"What... hic... you... hic... doing here? Making friends with my... hic... mother?"

"No, we have to head north from here. Show me that water walking spell again. With any luck it'll wear off after three hours this time."

* * *

They reached Shallit within an hour. It was well hidden in a small cove and both Llovesi and Julan were irritated but relieved when they finally saw the name engraved on the wooden door of the cave.

"Why can't these bandits hide out a little closer to civilization?" Julan asked, now sober and grumpy, "like, in the middle of Balmora? I could go for that."

They made their way inside. It was eerily quiet.

"What's this?" Llovesi, picked a scrap of paper off a nearby crate and read aloud:

"_Giden, here's a blade for the new man. Send him ahead_... blablabla. _Stay alert, bounty hunters are seeking us_, too right!, _but I feel fairly secure up here. Rels_. Where's up here?" She looked around. "Keep going straight on?"

They made their way through the rest of the tunnels but they were empty.

"Look, Llovesi, a door!" Julan pointed. Sure enough, the cave gave way suddenly to sandstone steps, as if they had broken through into another tomb.

"We passed an Ancestral Tomb earlier, didn't we? If I'd known he was hiding in there we could've saved a lot of time," Llovesi grumbled, and pushed open the door. It was dark inside, and she strained her eyes, before pulling a torch from her pack and lighting it.

"Llovesi, behind you!"

A powerful blow sent her sprawling across the room, the torch went out and she hit the wall, dazed and bruised. Julan was fighting... something in the dark. It shouted in an unearthly voice and she could make out glowing yellow eyes near Julan's scarlet ones.

She jumped to her feet and pulled Illkurok from her back, grateful for the Night Eye enchantment. Julan was sparring with a robed Breton. A robed Breton with fangs. Julan slashed at her chest and no blood spurted forth. She punched him hard, slashed at him with her own dagger and readied a fearsome frost spell in her hands. Llovesi cracked her across the head with Illkurok and the Breton sagged at the knees. Julan stabbed her in the heart and she shrieked then crumbled to ash.

"A Vampire! By Azura!" Julan panted, and wiped his forehead. "We walked right into a trap! Damn!" He was bleeding copiously, his cuirass stained with dark blood. With trembling fingers he cast a healing spell.

Llovesi swept the ashes into an empty vial, knowing that they would probably be worth a reasonable amount. Under the robe, an enchanted ring caught her eye and she picked it up, trembling herself.

"Julan, I'm so sorry. I almost got you killed, I just blundered in here..."

"It's okay, I'm still here, Llovesi." He walked back into the tunnel they had come from while Llovesi searched the tomb.

Julan was searching in the crates back in Shallit. "Llovesi!" he called. "I think we've been a pair of right fetchers." He held up some glass vials. "Levitation potions."

"Secur_e up _here... Oh Gods Julan I'm sorry. I didn't think." Llovesi went even paler.

Julan shrugged. "Come on, let's go get the s'wit."

* * *

Later, Llovesi and Julan had set up their tent nearby and were cleaning their weapons and licking their wounds. Rels Tenim had been a tough opponent. Luckily, the other bandits in the cave hadn't put up much of a fight so they faced Rels alone, but he had been a trained warrior. Much too strong to face in individual combat, they'd had to resort to slightly underhand tactics. 'Fighting dirty' Julan called it. Llovesi called it 'survival'. Still, the job was done, they could take the payment. There was just one thing to deal with beforehand.

"Julan?" Llovesi approached him as he descaled slaughterfish for their evening meal. "I'm going to have to go back to Balmora soon."

"Why?"

"It's Caius, he gave me a two week deadline."

Julan scowled as he ran the knife down the fish. "I don't like that guy. Has he never heard of the concept of freedom?"

"You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"No, no, it's okay. I'll go wait in a tavern or something."

* * *

The next morning they packed up their recent haul and left it in Julan's camp, before travelling back to Wolverine Hall, and from there to Balmora.

Llovesi left Julan in the Lucky Lockup, and crossed the city quickly. It was quiet now, too quiet considering that this was normally the time of year when preparations for Saturalia were well underway. The streets were nearly empty, but the city still felt far more normal and familiar than the strange places she had been visiting recently. Still, as her breath formed in front of her Llovesi saw a green-robed Dunmer man approaching from the corner of her eye.

"Muthsera?" she asked.

"Llovesi." Again those dull, harsh tones. _Not again_. "You cannot deny your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory. Lord Dagoth calls you, Llovesi!"

"Get away! Guards, guards!" But before the figures in bonemold came running over, the man had turned and disappeared down an alleyway.

"What is it, sera?" a guard asked.

"One of those 'sleepers' again. I think." _He knew my name. How did he know my name?_

"I'm sorry, sera. There's little we can do. We arrest them, they escape. Lord Vivec forbids the killing of the mad. Of course, the Imperial Legion has no qualms in that area... All we can do is hope the Temple finds a cure."

Llovesi shook her head, thanked them and moved on.

In contrast to the frosty streets, Caius house was warm and musty. Llovesi felt the flush rise in her cheeks almost immediately, and removed her winter cloak. Caius still wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Journeyman," he said, rising from the table where he was reading. "Good timing. I presume you're here for your orders?"

Llovesi nodded, and wiped sweat from her forehead.

"Good. I've been thinking it over, and we need an Ashlander informant-"

"Really? I know someone." Llovesi thoughts turned to Julan. Maybe if he felt more involved he'd be less suspicious of what she was doing.

Caius raised his eyebrows. "Your shouty friend? I think not. I'm looking for someone with a little more age and experience. I have heard of a fellow in Ald'ruhn named Hassour Zainsubani, an Ashlander who left the Wastes to become a wealthy trader. They say the Ashlanders like to give and receive presents. Take these one hundred septims. Find out what Zainsubani likes, and get him a gift. Then give him the gift, and see if he will tell you about the Ashlanders and the Nerevarine cult. Then report back to me."


	15. The Cold Side of Fire

_**Chapter 14: The Cold Side of Fire**_

"So Caius needs an Ashlander informant? Why didn't you tell him about me?"

They were on the silt strider, heading to Ald'ruhn. As the caravaneer steered the beast past a rocky outcrop, Llovesi sighed.

"What happened to being undercover?"

"Oh yeah. Who's he sending us to?" Julan asked.

"A guy named Hassour... Hassour uh... Zain..."

"Hassour Zainsubani!" Julan exclaimed. Llovesi looked at him in surprise.

"You _know_ him?"

"Of course! He stays in the Ald Skar Inn. Sometimes, when I got tired of training at Ghostgate I'd go there for a drink, and talk to him. He likes reading as well you see."

Llovesi tapped a finger against her chin. "Do you think he'd appreciate a book as a gift?"

"Definitely. Leave it with me!"

When they descended in Ald'ruhn, Julan strode off. "Meet me at the Ald Skar Inn," he said, "I know a bookseller nearby, he's bound to have something Hassour would like... er... can I borrow some money?"

Llovesi handed him her coin purse with an amused smile. The sky was turning a foreboding shade of grey, so she jogged over to the inn to wait under its awning. The skies broke as Julan reappeared, carrying a small wrapped book. He handed it to Llovesi.

"_Ashland Hymns_," she read aloud over the sound of the rain, and flipped to a random page: "_What a wondrous love it is/To bind two souls in faith/Chained completely together/With never a false word_... it's very pretty." She closed the book, feeling a little guilty. _Never a false word indeed_.

"It is. I think he's probably read it already, but this is a nice edition, with illustrations and everything. Caius was smart to tell you to buy him a gift."

Inside the tavern, Boderi frowned thoughtfully. "Hassour? I think he's down in the back room."

Sure enough, the elderly trader was sipping a flin at a table by himself. He looked up as they approached.

"Greetings, outlander, Julan. May you bless and be blessed. I do not wish to be rude, but if you have business, speak it, for I am at leisure, and would prefer to be alone with my thoughts."

"Forgive me then, sera," Llovesi said, holding out the copy of _Ashland Hymns_, "for I wished to offer you a gift and seek your wisdom."

"You do? I am amazed. _Ashland Hymns_. Simple sentiments, simply stated. Please take no offense, but I already own a copy of this book. But you could not know this, and it in no way diminishes the pleasure of your gift. My people have never loved the written word, and I lament their ignorant scorn for such common yet potent magic. I thank you, and I honour your courtesy. It would please me to return your courtesy by answering your questions. What would you wish to know?"

"Whatever you can tell me about the Ashlanders and the Nerevarine Cult."

Hassour laced his fingers together and leant back in his chair with a sigh.

"The Nerevarine Cult. They worship the Great Ashkhan and Hortator, Nerevar Moon-and-Star, who in ages past destroyed the evil, Godless dwarves and banished the treacherous Dagoth Ur and his foul hosts beneath Red Mountain. The cult is of small consequence in Ashlander worship, and only among the Urshilaku do its followers have any influence. Others Ashlanders tribes share the sentiments of the cult, but regard the Nerevarine prophecies with suspicion and skepticism. Of course, the notion of a reincarnated Nerevar is a dream that would appeal to every Ashlander, but it is thought but a silly ancient legend, and little more, by many Ashlanders - myself included."

Julan's jaw dropped, so Llovesi quickly stepped in with another question.

"But what can you tell me about Ashlanders then? And the Urshilaku?"

Hassour retrieved a quill, and began writing on a nearby piece of parchment in an elegant script.

"The Urshilaku are the Ashlanders of the northern Ashlands and the West Gash. Ashkhan Sul-Matuul is their chief, a brave and respected war leader, Warrior-Protector of the Nerevarine cult and Nibani Maesa is their Wise Woman and the Oracle-Seer of the cult. The Urshilaku camp moves with the herds, but usually lies close to the Sea of Ghosts.

"As for the Ashlanders, there is too much to tell. I am making notes for you. But most of all, if you are visiting a camp, there are things you should know about courtesy and challenges among the Ashlanders. And, since you ask about the Nerevarine cult, perhaps you'll be interested in my views on the Ashlanders and foreigners, because a guiding passion of the Nerevarine cult is their hatred of foreigners.

"Most Ashlanders wish all foreigners and their false Gods could be driven from Morrowind. At very least, Ashlanders wish the foreign devils would leave them in peace. Ashlanders think it shameful to attack unarmed persons, but they will kill without hesitation an armed person who offends them or their clan laws. No Ashlander is fool enough to make war against the Empire. However, if such a war might be won, many Ashlanders might cheerfully give their lives to win such a war."

"What about challenges and courtesy?" Llovesi asked.

"When challenged for sport, it is acceptable to decline. When challenged for honour, it is shameful to decline. Honour challenges come from offense given in speech or action, or may represent customary formal challenges of status or ritual. Ashlanders may challenge a stranger who enters a yurt without invitation. Customs differ with different tribes, but leave when requested, and you may be forgiven. Be particularly careful about Ashkhans - tribal chiefs - and wise women - tribal seers and counsellors. Some are welcoming, some are hostile. Be courteous, and leave if requested. If offended, they may attack."

"Thank you."

Hassour bowed his head. "It is a pleasure." He gave Llovesi the sheaf of notes that he had written.

"I wonder, sera," Llovesi said as she accepted them, "how it is that you are so knowledgeable on the Ashlanders yet you lead a trader's life here in Ald'ruhn?"

The old Dunmer laughed. "I was born an Ashlander, but I soon saw the profit in trading with the settled folk. But now, I am too old to travel, to risk the beasts and bitter blights of the Wastes. Now I sit here warm and savour my imported Cyrodilic brandy, while my adventurous son, Hannat Zainsubani, assists me in my trade, seeking out sources of fine ebony, and fetching them at fine prices."

"You have a son?" Llovesi asked.

The old trader looked troubled for a moment. "Yes. In truth I wonder at my son. He has been so long away, without a word to his father, surely he wishes me to die of worry, so he may inherit this fine brandy. He has proposed to chart the rarely visited ancient underground complex at Mamaea, west of Red Mountain; if you should chance to see him in your travels, chide him, and tell him an old man longs for news of his son-and-heir."

"I will." Llovesi said, and she and Julan left.

"Wow, Llovesi!" Julan exclaimed, once they were back on the silt strider to Balmora.

"What?"

"The way you talked to him – it was really impressive. You were so respectful! I mean, normally you're pretty rash and impatient and-"

"Just keep the compliments coming, why don't you? It reminds me why I'm with you." Llovesi said dryly, knowing that he was probably thinking of her bad decisions dealing with Rels Tenim. "I said I was raised as a maid – being polite has been practically hammered into me. Besides I've learned what makes people tick – I hope."

Julan looked thoughtful. "Yeah. If Caius sends you to interview any of these Ashlanders you'd have a lot more on your plate. Still – why would he? That would be completely disrespectful. Not to mention, Hassour has given you more than enough information."

"I hope so," Llovesi said, and inside her mind she was puzzled. Why had Caius wanted all the information on Ashlander courtesy? _She _knew he wasn't writing a book. What use could the Emperor possible make of traditional Ashlander customs? As far as Llovesi was aware, Legion diplomacy extended to murder and brutality, with maybe a warning if you were lucky enough. She hoped that she wasn't going to be the agent for greater destruction in this land.

They reached Balmora again as the afternoon faded to early evening. Llovesi made her way across the river to Caius's. To her surprise, Julan followed her.

"Don't you want to go to a tavern or something?" she asked.

Julan shrugged. "Last time you were in there for all of ten minutes. I didn't even have time to get a drink. I'll just wait outside."

* * *

Caius was pacing his house when Llovesi entered. He took Hassour's notes without a word, and scanned them quickly, a small frown creasing his brow. Then he thrust them back at her.

"Thank you. But keep these notes. You'll need them. I'm promoting you to Finder, and sending you to the Urshilaku camp to speak with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa. But before you go, I think it may be time to tell you what's going on, Llovesi."

His use of her name instead of her rank struck Llovesi more than what he actually said. Almost. Her heartbeat quickened and she managed to choke out: "What do you mean, 'what's going on'?"

Caius looked at her at length and sighed. "Sit down, Finder. You'll probably want to in a bit anyway."

He gestured at his small table, then sat opposite her and pulled out a think envelope. Llovesi recognised it immediately. It was the package that she herself had delivered to him, nearly four months ago.

"The Emperor and his advisors think you have the appearance of meeting the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies." Caius said, as if he didn't quite believe his own words. "That's why you were pulled out of prison on his Majesty's authority and sent to me. So you could satisfy the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies and become the Nerevarine. Here. This is a decoded copy of the coded package you gave me when you arrived. Read it later. It should explain everything."

Llovesi was thunderstruck. This, she had _never _expected _this_. This was beyond her. It was wrong, wrong, it couldn't be true. She reeled. And what would Julan think, for Azura's sake? She would have to tell him, how could she hide it anymore oh Gods...She opened her mouth to protest but Caius was still speaking.

"... the Emperor and his counsellors say you have the 'appearance' of satisfying the conditions of the prophecy. Do you _really _satisfy the prophecy? Are you _really _the prophesied Nerevarine? At first, I thought we were just supposed to create a persuasive impostor. Now I don't know what to think. But I am sure of one thing. This is not just primitive superstition, and we will treat it seriously, just as his Majesty commands."

Llovesi found her voice. "But, you're wrong. My friend-"

She stopped herself. She couldn't betray Julan as the true Nerevarine. That would be worse, far worse, than what was happening right now.

Caius glared at her. "Perhaps you didn't hear me clearly enough? The Emperor and his advisors seem to think this prophecy is genuine - whatever a 'genuine' prophecy is - and we're going to take it seriously. _Aren't_ we, Llovesi?"

What could she do but nod? But that didn't stop her questions. "I thought the Nerevarine was supposed to drive out the foreign invaders. Why on earth would the Emperor want that?"

"Think outside the box Llovesi: a Nerevarine who is _loyal_ to the Empire. And you _are_ loyal to the Empire, aren't you? Even I can see how it would be nice to have a Nerevarine in our pocket. Just in case."

"But, but," Llovesi felt she was grabbing at excuses, "what do you mean I have the 'appearance' of being the Nerevarine? Am I or aren't I?" _I'm not,_ she thought.

"That's what I'm sending you to discover, Finder. Now, enough questions. Go to Fort Moonmouth and pick up essential supplies. See Somutis Vunnis and Crulius Pontanian. I've asked them to put aside some potions and scrolls for you. Courtesy of the Emperor. In particular, you'll want the cure potions; I hear the Blight is very bad up north. Then head to Maar Gan. Look for Nuleno Tedas at Maar Gan Outpost. She'll be able to tell you how to reach Urshilaku camp. When you've spoken with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa, report back to me. Take these two hundred septims for expenses. Now, get out of here." He handed her the money and pointed at the door.

Llovesi stood, her feet heavy and unwillingly. The journey wasn't causing her trepidation; she was used to travelling in the wilderness now. _But what would she say to Julan?_

She folded the papers Caius gave her and put them in her bag without looking at them. Then she left the house, her troubled mind elsewhere.

"YOU! You... you faithless, traitorous n'wah!"

The voice slashed through her reverie like a thunderclap straight from Oblivion. And it was Julan, Julan screaming at her, his face twisted with ugly rage, spitting in hers.

"You SCUM. You LIAR," he snarled. "I thought I could trust you, I had even IDIOT that I am started to think I might... gah! Forget that now, NOW you have betrayed me in the WORST possible way!"

"Julan what-" But she knew what. This could only be about one thing.

"I KNEW something wasn't right! So I listened in on your conversation!"

Despite her overwhelming guilt and uncertainty, Llovesi was suddenly furious. Even if she didn't deserve his trust she had expected it. "You _spied_ on me? How dare you!"

It was the wrong thing to say. Julan's eyes narrowed as his voice rose in volume. "WHAT? YOU accuse ME of spying? YOU'RE the spy Llovesi, I know that now. An IMPERIAL spy! Of all people, I never thought YOU would spy for my most hated enemies. And that's not even the WORST of it!"

"I suppose you're going to SHOUT SOME MORE about what the worst is?"

"You're trying to pass yourself off as the Nerevarine! YOU! AN OUTLANDER! How DARE you mock me, and not just me, my PEOPLE, my RELIGION and my entire CULTURE!"

"I didn't KNOW! You think I have a SAY in this?" Llovesi didn't even bother to keep her temper down now. The shouting was cathartic; all her frustrations were being expelled as she yelled. She didn't care that it was Julan, didn't care that it wouldn't end well, never had done when her temper flared...

Julan screamed back: "I don't CARE! Of course you have a say! You're standing there, preparing to go to the Urshilaku and con them into accepting you as the fulfilment of the prophecies! It's the most offensive and ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

"YOU AREN'T LISTENING! I didn't want this. But I'm not going to con anyone! So I _will_ go to the Urshilaku and they will _test _me! You think I'm some ignorant outlander, like I haven't been paying attention to anything I've learnt over the past months – but this, this I had no idea about."

Julan just stared at her. When he spoke, he was quiet again, but his voice was even more disgusted and disappointed. "How can I possibly believe anything you say anymore? I just... can't believe you could do this to me."

"It's always about you Julan. How do you think I feel?"

His eyes widened again. "YOU. How YOU feel..." He choked in disbelief. "Wha- stop changing the subject, you LIED to me! _Gods_, you must have been laughing all along. How could you lie about something so important to me?"

"I lied Julan, because I think I knew this would happen. I knew you would act like THIS."

"Like this? Are you saying I'm OVERREACTING? You betrayed me. I will NEVER forgive you."

They stared at each other. Llovesi was breathing hard, and in a quiet, cold logical part of her brain she thought: _so, this is how it ends. Seriously, to Oblivion with this._ It was safer to just walk away.

She pushed Julan aside and strode down the street. "Just go away, Julan. No one is making you stay with me. Not now."

He caught her arm and twisted it painfully, forcing her back towards him. "No. You're not getting rid of me of me. You think I'm going to sit back and let you mislead my people?"

Rage and spite consumed her. "Oh yeah. And what exactly are you going to do about it? You're an _exile_ remember?"

"Go on, twist the knife. You've already buried it in my back. Yes, I'm an outcast, yes no one will listen to a word I say, but I have to try. I can't let you do this. You'll have to kill me."

Boiling point. "Maybe I will!"

He jumped back as if she had burnt him. And she had. Her arms, in fact her whole body was consumed in flame. So it had happened. The rage had forced her volatile magicka resources to respond. She wasn't sure if she cared. _Just close your eyes and let it go._ But when she reopened them, the flame was still burning hot and low, and when she dismissed it with her mind, it disappeared.

So this was control. Found, not in rage, or excitement or fear, but in the midpoint between expression and repression. Emotional control: the cold side of fire. How easy it was not to feel, yet to be aware. How hard it was to have to drag herself back, to make herself want to go on.

Julan watched her with only the slightest apprehension as he drew himself up to his fullest height. "You just try it f'lah," he said coldly. "You might have betrayed me, but I will not let you betray Morrowind to the Empire."

He followed her, like an angry and persistent ghost. He wouldn't speak to her anymore, but watched her constantly and muttered under his breath. Llovesi remembered what Mashti had said about vengeful ancestors and wondered if it could possibly be worse than the situation she was currently in. And thinking of Mashti made her think of that night, with Julan... _well there was no point thinking about that now. _Even the fact that heading to the Urshilaku Camp meant she would be able to ask about Mashti's past meant nothing to her. _I don't care anymore_.

* * *

**A/N:** **Many thanks to FloridaMagpie for pointing out a typo in this chapter which has now been corrected. Julan may overeat, but he certainly doesn't do so in the middle of an argument!**


	16. Humility

_**Chapter 15: Humility**_

Llovesi went to Fort Moonmoth and, as promised, Crulius and Somutis gave her potions and scrolls to help her on the way north. The fortify strength and restore fatigue concoctions ended up being invaluable as Julan now refused to carry his share of the tent, keeping in his pack his own possessions and provisions only.

"Ashlanders do not need cover at night," he sneered. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

_As if he thinks weighing me down will stop me getting there_, Llovesi thought angrily, her determination making her continue to put one foot in front of the other.

Fortunately, she didn't have to carry the pack between Balmora and Maar Gan, as they took the silt strider, Julan sitting as far from her as physically possible and scowling the whole way.

Llovesi read over Hassour's notes and the decoded package on the long journey. The notes were a shortened version of what Hassour Zainsubani had told her, but she read them with fresh eyes now that she knew their purpose. It sounded as if she wouldn't just be able to walk straight up to Nibani Maesa or Sul-Matuul either. She would have to seek an invitation somehow... and they hated foreigners. She couldn't ask Julan's advice any more... _well, I'm not an idiot. I'll figure it out._

The decoded package now. She read it through carefully, rather than eagerly. It was as Caius had said. _I shall become the Nerevarine_. _That's what the Emperor wants me to do. Not only that, he believes it is possible._ _He's cracked, completely loopy._

However, she no longer thought of running away, or simply refusing. Not least because she would probably simply be thrown back in jail, Vvardenfell was her home now, and she also felt rather curious as to _why_ the Emperor thought she could be the Nerevarine. It had to be more than her birthday and orphan status. If it wasn't, the old man was an idiot. And what did she have to lose anymore? When Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa declared that she wasn't the Nerevarine, maybe she would have her freedom. She had meant it when she said she wasn't going to con anyone. _But... but what if I am the Nerevarine?_ Llovesi shook her head. That was a crazy thought. _Julan's the Nerevarine. That's why we're fighting._

They had reached Maar Gan. In the outpost outside the village, Llovesi was directed to Nuleno Tedas in a room downstairs. The scout took Llovesi's map and traced out a route.

"Urshilaku camp is due north from Maar Gan, but high ridges lie in the way. From Maar Gan head east past the silt strider, then take a trail north to the Foyada Bani-Dad. Follow the foyada northwest to the sea. A shipwreck at the seamouth of the ravine is a landmark. Swim east around the headland. Pass east through the ruins of Assurnabitashpi Shrine. Avoid Daedra here. They're powerful and aggressive. Urshilaku Camp lies east of the ruins, inland in a low hollow."

She handed the map back, and Llovesi thanked her. It was nearing evening now, but she set off east anyway, not wanting to delay the journey. The longer she spent in Julan's silent, hostile company, the more uncomfortable she felt.

The journey took two days. The first night she camped alone in the tent, Julan sleeping outside, and listened to the strange noises of the foyada – strange cries and low rumbles. When she finally slept, she dreamt.

The tall figure in the golden mask was there, speaking, and this time she heard his words: "Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia! Long forgotten, forged anew! Three belied you, three betrayed you! One you betrayed was three times true! Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur, steadfast liegeman, faithful friend, bids you come and climb Red Mountain! Beneath Red Mountain, once again, break your bonds, shed cursed skin, and purge the n'wah from Morrowind!"

She woke shivering, and not because of the cold. The words were far too close to the words Sleepers spoke for comfort. She had felt as if he were speaking directly to her, that he knew her. She barely understood what it was about – _three betrayed you? The Tribunal?_ The more she puzzled over it, the more it bothered her, not just the words, but the unsettling feeling that had accompanied the dream.

The next morning a cold mist descended as they left the foyada, but Llovesi could dimly make out the shipwreck Nuleno had mentioned ahead. The land was still deep in the lull of early quiet. Suddenly, Llovesi heard a distinctive cry from the sky. _Cliff Racer_. But not just one, a whole swarm. At first she stood her ground, and as they dove down she beat them off with her spear, but soon there were too many, and she turned and ran for the hills, hoping to lose them as she scrambled through the rocks. She reached the top of the hill and lost her footing, tumbling down in a cloud of dust and rumble.

Julan levitated down nearby, throwing her a disdainful look as she wiped dirt and blood from her multiple grazes. But the Cliff Racers didn't follow, and when Llovesi turned round she realised why.

A Daedric ruin. It was huge and sprawling, with impossible angles in a deep-red stone. And the Daedra. Oh yes, the Daedra. Llovesi counted a Fire Atronach, a Scamp and an Ogrim and more besides. If they had been alone, she could have probably taken them. But obviously they weren't so she elected to give the ruins a wide berth, adding another hour to the already long journey. When the ruin was safely out of sight and in the distance, twilight was drawing in and Llovesi set up the tent again. As if things couldn't get any worse, the distant sound of an ash storm rose around them as the wind picked up.

Julan slept with her in the tent that night, it not being safe outside, and the palpable silence between them was somehow even worse than the loneliness of the previous night. He fell asleep before she did, and Llovesi was left with only the sound of the howling wind and his tossing and turning for comfort.

In truth, it wasn't the noises of the night keeping her awake, but a gnawing anxiety. She was nervous about what she would have to do in the morning. Nervous because, well, she wanted to do it properly. She didn't really want to fail. That meant relying on Julan keeping his mouth shut just as much as her saying the right thing. Maybe she was just a pawn, but that didn't mean she didn't want to get to the bottom of the mystery, and that meant following through on her orders. She had made that promise to herself after her first ever meeting with Caius, and it seemed she was still on that journey.

In the morning, Llovesi woke bleary-eyed from her snatched sleep and packed up the tent with numb fingers. They had been walking for half an hour or so when to her surprise, Llovesi heard Julan speak.

"We're nearing the Urshilaku Camp now. I suppose you'll want to speak to their Ashkhan."

She didn't turn around. "Yes. That's the idea."

"So, what will you tell them? They'll just laugh at you, you know. You're an outlander, so you could never be the Nerevarine. Why are you even bothering?"

"Because I want to know what's going on. I need to know."

"Yeah?" Julan's voice was obstinate. "Well you're wasting your time."

Llovesi turned to look at him. "Perhaps I am. But I'd appreciate it if you kept out of it anyway. Don't start yelling that I'm an Imperial imposter or anything."

Julan folded his arms and glared at her. "Why? You are!"

_So it's time to climb this particular mountain_. Llovesi sighed. "They're going to test me. That means if I fail none of this will matter. I won't be able to claim I'm the Nerevarine. But if you kick off, they'll refuse to even talk to me, and then you'll have no proof I'm a fake."

"You have a point."

"Good. So keep your mouth shut." Llovesi said, and turned back to continue walking.

"Fine! But I'm not doing it to help you."

They walked up the next dusty hill, and there the Urshilaku Camp was: sprawling in the valley below them. It was much like the Ahemmusa Camp in appearance: large, brown canvas yurts arranged in a circle, with some under a large awning from which wind chimes clinked gently in the winter breeze. Faded rugs covered the bare ground, and a large fire burnt low near a bubbling muck pit.

Llovesi took a deep breath and approached an Ashlander man. His weather-beaten face hardened as she drew close.

"You are an outlander, and he is outcast," he said, pointing at Julan. "What do you want here in our camp?"

"Greetings serjo," Llovesi replied carefully, using the highest honorific she knew, "I wish to talk-"

"You wish to talk? I will not talk with such a one as you." He turned away.

"Perhaps, serjo, I might offer you a gift?" Llovesi asked desperately, remembering Hassour's notes on courtesy.

The man turned back and eyed her appraisingly.

"You want to offer me a gift?" he asked. "Poor outlander. Even these small things are a puzzle to you. Then bring me some trama root for my larder. I am a hunter, and it is beneath my dignity to scrabble about in the dirt. But you? Perhaps this is a task you can handle."

So he aimed to humiliate her, perhaps thinking she would refuse. Llovesi drew her dagger, and strode over to a rock where the thick purple roots sprung from the ground. She knelt in the dust and hacked at them, but they were prickly and tough, and her hands were ripped and bleeding before she managed to gather a few samples. She straightened up. Both Julan and the Ashlander were watching her.

"Your trama root, serjo."

The man took it, and to Llovesi's amazement, a small smile crossed his lips for a brief moment. "Well, outlander, you are not proud. But you are courteous, and in an outlander, that is not a thing to be despised. Very well. I accept your gift. And thank you. You wished to talk?"

"I believe I fulfil the Nerevarine prophecies, and I wish to speak with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa."

The man looked completely stunned. "I do not believe what I am hearing," he said. "You think you are the Nerevarine, and you wish to speak to Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa? You do not look like the Nerevarine. But you do not speak like a fool, or a madwoman. This is a puzzle."

He looked thoughtful for a second. "I tell you... go speak with Zabamund in his yurt. He is a gulakhan, Sul-Matuul's champion, and he will decide what is right. If Zabamund gives you permission, then you may enter the Ashkhan's Yurt and speak with Sul-Matuul."

He led her to a yurt under the awning then left them. Llovesi went inside, Julan following her. Zabamund sat by his fire, dressed in full chitin. He stood as they entered and inclined his head courteously.

"Talk, outlander. Speak with respect, and I will listen."

Llovesi knew better than to dive straight in this time. "I wanted to offer you a gift, serjo, for allowing me to speak to you."

The gulakhan looked wrong-footed for the smallest of moments. "That is our custom, yes. Among strangers, we honour this custom with gold."

Llovesi withdraw her coin purse. "Then serjo, allow me to offer you a tribute of two hundred gold pieces."

Zabamund took the gold. "Thank you outlander. I am not proud and admit that this gift pleases me. Perhaps now you will tell me your purpose here?"

So Llovesi spoke. She told him everything she had learnt over the past three months, from Hasphat Antabolis, from Sharn gra-Muzgob, from Huleeya, Addhiranirr and Mehra Milo and from Hassour Zainsubani. She told him all she had learnt of the prophecies of the Incarnate. She told him all she had learnt of Nerevar and the War of the First Council. She told him about the Sleeper attacks and the rumours of a risen Sixth House. She read him her copy of The Stranger. Then she told him how she believed that she had the appearance of fulfilling the prophecies of the Nerevarine and wished to speak with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa. When she finished her voice was hoarse and Zabamund was watching her with an interesting expression lighting his eyes.

"Hmm. These are not simple matters," he said slowly. "You know a great deal more than I would have thought. And some of what you say is news to me. I believe you should speak to Sul-Matuul. Perhaps he will be angry with me. But I think I can bear that. Go to the Ashkhan's Yurt next to mine and speak with Sul-Matuul. Ask him your questions, and tell him I have sent you."


	17. The Harrowing

_**Chapter 16: The Harrowing**_

Sul-Matuul stood in the centre of his yurt, as if he were waiting for them. Perhaps he was. The camp was only now beginning to be consumed in the hustle-bustle of early morning activity and it was entirely possible that he had heard the conversation in the yurt next door.

He watched Llovesi as she bowed before him. His face was old and wrinkled, his red eyes blank but alert. To a casual observer he may have been taken as any other Ashlander. In fact, to the city-dwellers of Vvardenfell that was all he would ever be. To Llovesi, now familiar to some extent with Ashlander ways, he seemed a great and powerful warrior, and every triumph and defeat was etched into the lines on his face.

"So," he said, and his voice was deep and rich. "You have been sent by one of my gulakhans, else you would not be here. Who was it?"

"Zabamund, serjo."

"And for what purpose did he send you?"

"My name is Llovesi. I believe I may fulfil the Nerevarine prophecies."

He studied her face for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"You think you fulfil the Nerevarine prophecies. You wish to be tested to see if you are the Nerevarine. No outlander may join the Nerevarine cult. If you were a Clanfriend, an adopted member of the Ashlander tribes, then perhaps." He paused. "I have an initiation rite in mind. If you pass this rite, I will adopt you as a Clanfriend of the Ashlanders. And then I will submit you to Nibani Maesa, our wise woman, who is skilled in oracles and mysteries, and who will test you against the prophecies."

"What would you have me do?" Llovesi asked.

"To be adopted into the tribe, you must undergo a harrowing. In a harrowing, you will be judged by the spirits and ancestors to see if you are worthy. Go to the Urshilaku Burial Caverns and fetch me Sul-Senipul's Bonebiter Bow. Sul-Senipul was my father, and his spirit guards his bonemold long bow deep in the burial caverns. Return to me with this bow, and I will adopt you into the Ashlander tribes as a Clanfriend."

"Where can I find these caverns?"

"The burial caverns lie to the south-southeast of the camp, a north-facing door in a little hill halfway between us and the slopes of Red Mountain. Go north from the camp to the water, then turn east. At a rock cairn on the beach, turn and head straight south until you find the door. The spirits of our ancestors guard the caverns. They will attack, and will kill you if they can. Force your way past them, or evade them, get the bow, and return to prove your worthiness."

Llovesi nodded swiftly, and left the camp, avoiding looking at Julan. The directions were easy to follow, but she was walking south for a long time. Just when she thought she must have missed it, she saw the door in the distance. Closer, she could make out a carved sign: 'Urshilaku Burial Caverns.'

"So, you've found the Burial Caverns."

Llovesi jumped. It was Julan, speaking as unexpectedly as before.

He went on: "You're not actually going in there, are you? Don't you think that's a really bad idea?"

Llovesi slumped against the door. She'd had nothing but bad experiences in ancestral tombs, from the Andrano Tomb to the one with the vampire in it. Julan was reminding her of this, and she resented him for it.

"Shut up," she said wearily. "You've made your feelings clear. I'm going in there whether you like it or not." _Whether I like it or not_.

Julan hesitated. "No... I wasn't trying to..." He sighed. "I just have a bad feeling about this. You don't know my people like I do. This isn't an initiation; it's a death trap. Sul-Matuul has no intention of making you Clanfriend, he just wants to get rid of you. He doesn't think you'll come back from this place."

"You just don't want me to succeed. Why should I believe you?"

"Because," Julan continued, and Llovesi noticed that he sounded more exasperated than angry, "these are the Urshikau Burial Caverns, so they're a most sacred place. No Ashkhan would send an outlander to trample and profane the bones of his ancestors. But he might send someone there if he thought that they would die there. The release of their soul would increase the power of the tomb's ancestor guardian spirits. This is how my people think. Why can't you see that?"

Llovesi sighed, troubled. "Why are you telling me this? I would've thought that my death here would be what you wanted. Why the sudden concern?"

Julan didn't reply.

"Well, I'm going in anyway," Llovesi said, bracing herself. "Even if what you say is true, I have no choice, I have to try. It's the only way to become Clanfriend. Are you coming? Or are you too scared?"

"Oh, I'm coming!" he shot back. "Someone has to make sure you treat this sacred place with respect!"

Incensed again, Llovesi pushed the door open. A dimly lit, wide passageway appeared before her. Their steps echoed in the open space as they walked in, and Llovesi could hear water trickling in the distance. The otherworldly whispering that normally inhabited ancestral tombs was absent, but Llovesi still had the uneasy feeling of being watched. Maybe it was the mummies that flanked the way. They sat, grey with bowed heads surrounded by the possessions they had likely owned in life, and Llovesi watched them warily, fearing that they would turn out to be the caverns' guardians, and spring up to its defence.

But they remained still and silent, and Llovesi and Julan met nothing until the next cavern. Skeletons, more resilient than ones she'd met previously, but more easily dispatched now that she could command a fire spell to some degree as well as her spear. To her surprise, Julan also joined in the battles, although he said nothing afterwards. This cavern was wide and large, its ceiling disappearing high above them. Every breath she took echoed off the walls around them, and the still lake before them. It was dotted with stone pillars, rising from the depths, whose flat tops formed stepping-stones that they used to cross the water.

The next cavern they entered was even more impossibly big, and Llovesi thought they must be far underground now. A great stone pillar rose from the middle of the water in front of them, a thin stone walkway spiralled around it, presumably to the top.

Waterfalls crashed down at random intervals, and Llovesi had to shout to be heard: "I'm going to go straight to the top and see what's there!"

Julan just shrugged, and they set off. The path was very narrow and crumbling in places, so progress was slow. Fortunately, no skeletons appeared. After what seemed like hours, the path ended, by a door set into the wall. 'Juno Burial' was carved onto it. Llovesi shoved it open with her shoulder.

At the back of the cavern, they found the Wraith of Sul-Senipul. It flew towards them, shrieking, holding a ghostly bow aloft. Llovesi swiped at it with her fire blade and it retaliated with its own fire spell. Thanking her stars that she had a natural fire resistance, Llovesi dodged and continued her attack. Julan tore holes in the spirit with his own enchanted arrows.

Finally, they reduced it to dust. The ghostly bow fell to the floor, becoming corporeal as it did so. Llovesi picked it up. It was long and light, and glowed with an enchantment. "This is it," she said, holding it in awe. "The Bonebiter bow."

Julan touched her shoulder. "Llovesi can... can I talk to you for a minute?"

She turned to look at him. "Is now the best time? I should get this back to Sul-Matuul." She paused. His face looked surprisingly earnest. "Ok, what is it?"

"I've been thinking. About a lot of things really, but uh, mainly about the whole Imperial Spy, false Incarnate... thing..."

"And?" Llovesi asked testily.

"You lied to me about being a spy for the Emperor and I'm still not happy about that..."

Llovesi said nothing. This was true.

"... and I'm not happy about you agreeing to pretend to be the Nerevarine for the Emperor-"

"I'm not _pretending_, I'm being _tested_!"

"Shut up!" Julan shouted suddenly, looking agonised. "I'm trying to explain something here! So... as I said, I've been thinking. I've been trying to imagine what I would do in your situation. And I don't know – I probably would've shouted a lot and end being thrown back into jail. It occurred to me that maybe what I would've done in your situation wouldn't have been a very good idea..."

"I'm amazed. Where are you going with this, Julan?"

"If you let me finish I'd tell you! Sheogorath! You're not going to make this easy for me are you? I..." He trailed off again, looking tortured, and realisation dawned on Llovesi.

"You're... you're not trying to apologise are you, Julan?" she asked.

"N-Maybe. I don't know. All I know is I tried to think about why you're doing what you're doing and... I suppose it's not your fault if the Emperor is manipulating you. I can understand why you'd want to know what's going on. And..."

"And?"

"I, um, realised it can't be easy for you either. And maybe I haven't been making your life any easier. So yes, I suppose I am trying to apologise. For shouting, not listening, and not thinking about your side of things. And for acting like an idiot. As usual."

"Okay Julan. I forgive you."

"Thank you," he said, and a low blush spread over his cheeks. "I... I like you a lot... and even when I was really angry, I felt bad that we might never be on speaking terms again. I really am sorry, and I'm glad you forgive me." He smiled and stepped closer. "We should get moving. But first..." He placed his hands on her waist and slipped them lower. Llovesi pushed them away firmly.

"You're not that forgiven yet! We can't go from death threats to making out in the space of a week!"

Julan looked momentarily disappointed. "Really? Well, will you let me know when I am properly forgiven? Will it be soon, do you think?"

They left the caverns, and Llovesi felt a great relief wash over her. It was good to be on speaking terms with Julan again, even if the worst of her trials were definitely still ahead.


	18. Clanfriend

**A/N: Just like to thank everyone who has reviewed so far - it really means a lot! Any comments/suggestions are welcome and very much appreciated. And wow, I've had over 300 views now!**

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_**Chapter 17: Clanfriend**_

It was evening in the Urshilaku Camp, and Sul-Matuul gravely took the Bonebiter Bow from Llovesi's hands.

"This is my father's Bonebiter Bow. You have completed the initiation rite. I name you Llovesi, Clanfriend of the Ashlanders. Keep my father's bow, and bear it with honour. You are a friend of our tribe, and may rest in any Urshilaku bed, but do not harm other tribe members, or take their things. And now I will fulfil my other promise. Go to the wise woman's yurt, and Nibani Maesa shall examine you, and test you against the Nerevarine prophecies."

He handed the bow back to Llovesi.

"Now that you are a Clanfriend, I want to speak plainly. I find it hard to believe that you are the Nerevarine. You are an outlander, but the Nerevarine comes to drive all outlanders from Morrowind. How could an outlander be the Incarnate? The Great Houses stole our lands and mocked us with false Gods. The Godless outlanders steal our land and our dignity. The Nerevarine is the last hope the Ashlanders have. I will let no outlander steal this hope from us.

"These are serious words, Llovesi, words of life and death. I see honour and merit in you, and am proud to name you Clanfriend. But take care what you say and do in the name of the Nerevarine. Now go question Nibani Maesa, and learn all she can tell you."

Llovesi and Julan left the tent. "Wow," Julan said. "I can't believe he actually made you Clanfriend. At least he's a man of his word. This is a great honour, especially for an outlander."

"I know," Llovesi said quietly. "I got that." She thrust the bow at Julan suddenly. "I can't take this!"

"What? But it would be disrespectful to refuse it!"

"No, I mean, I think you should take it. You're an Ashlander, it'll mean so much more to you. And, you know me, I'm much more of a spear girl."

Julan holstered the bow on his back, and pointed across the camp. "That yurt there, the larger one, is the wise woman's yurt."

Nibani Maesa stood tall and proud, her flat features conveying a kind of haughty beauty. Her long, silver hair swung in two braids down her back.

"So," she said, and her voice conveyed as much subtle power as her appearance. "You are the outlander of whom Sul-Matuul spoke."

"I am, serjo. Llovesi is my name."

"Llovesi. Or perhaps I should call you Clanfriend. You are hard-headed. And ignorant. But perhaps it is not your fault. My lord Ashkhan says you will ask me about the Nerevarine prophecies. He also says I will test you against the Nerevarine prophecies. I must do as my lord Ashkhan says.

"There are many Nerevarine prophecies, and they suggest many things. Aspect and uncertain parents. The moon-and-star. Sleepers. Seven curses. The curses' bane. The prophecy of the Stranger. The prophecy of the Seven Visions. The lost prophecies.

"Ask me of these things. If you are patient. If you would be wise. Or, if you are impatient to know, just ask: 'Do I pass the test of the Nerevarine prophecies?' Go ahead, outlander. I am the wise woman. Ask your questions. And I will answer."

Llovesi guessed enough to know that patience would be valued over impatience. "I wish to know about all the prophecies you mentioned."

"Then you and your friend should sit, for this will take a while."

They sat, Llovesi and Julan opposite Nibani on her threadbare rug. The wise woman retrieved some ancient-looking parchment from a nearby chest and laid it between them.

"Do you know your parents?" she asked Llovesi.

"I'm an orphan."

The wise woman looked thoughtful. "If what you say is true, you are indeed born on a certain day of uncertain parents. This is part of the prophecy. But many have the same birthday, and many are not sure of their parents. It is interesting. But it does not make you the Nerevarine."

"What about the moon-and-star?" Llovesi asked, knowing that she would fail that test as well. "Does that refer to the ring Nerevar wore?"

Nibani looked mildly impressed. "Perhaps. Some say that this was the case. Legend says Indoril Nerevar's family standard bore the moon and star, and Nerevar's armour and weapons bore this sign. Others say he bore a moon-and-star birthmark or that he was born under a moon-and-star. In any case, I think the moon-and-star is the mark of the Nerevarine, and you do not have this mark. So you are not the Nerevarine."

"And you mentioned Sleepers?" Llovesi asked, remembering her many disturbing encounters with the seemingly possessed Dunmer.

"Rumors say that in the towns, mad cultists called 'sleepers' are attacking people, saying that Dagoth Ur has awakened, and will drive the outlanders from Morrowind. Perhaps it is just a coincidence. But I think it is a sign of the Nerevarine. Not necessarily a sign that you are the Nerevarine. Perhaps the time of the Nerevarine has come. And you have come at the same time. This is not passing a test. But it may mean you have some part to play in the coming of the Nerevarine."

Llovesi felt Julan shift excitedly next to her. But had they come to him, calling him by name? She didn't know. _We share the dreams, though._

"Aren't the Sleepers being sent disturbing dreams?" she asked. "I've had disturbing dreams in the past few months..." She described a few of them to Nibani. Julan looked increasingly perturbed.

Nibani breathed deeply. "These dreams are the tricks of Dagoth Ur. He speaks to you, but you must resist. He promises you shall live forever, that you shall gain the power of life and death. But he is the Father of Lies, and thinks to trick you with his gifts. Do not listen. Do not go to him. Do not hear the voice of the Sharmat, for it will drive you mad. Dagoth Ur himself is mad. He is dead, but he dreams he lives. He hears laughter and love, but he makes monsters and ghouls. He woos as a lover, but he reeks with fear and disgust. The last dream is the most disturbing to my ears."

"Why?" Llovesi asked. It had seemed the least worrying to her, and Nibani's account of the dreams had disturbed her more.

"Because the Sharmat Dagoth Ur speaks to you in the voice of prophecy. He curses the three betrayers, the three false Gods, Vivec, Almalexia, Sotha Sil. He calls you to drive the outlanders from Morrowind. This is a very strong dream, very cunning, a dream to stir hearts. This is a very good lie. He called you Nerevar. And the dream of the Nerevarine is very strong, and very dangerous, for you, and for all my people. But many people are sent these dreams. It does not mean that you are the Nerevarine."

Llovesi shuddered. "What are the seven curses? And the curses' bane?" she asked, eager to move the discussion on.

"Ashlander prophecies of the Nerevarine. The first is 'The Seven Curses of the Sharmat'. But I do not know it, and I know no one who does. It may be lost. Such things happen. A wise woman dies, or forgets, or a clan is wiped out. Perhaps someone knows, but is keeping it secret. Perhaps it is in one of those many books of your settled peoples. I have heard that the Dissident priests of the Temple may have such books. The second likely refers to a line in 'The Stranger'."

And she recited it, the same verses that Sharn had given her, and passed her a piece of parchment – another copy. "It is the best known of the prophecies," she said. "The Seven Visions is also well-known, and I can give you a copy. The full title of the prophecy is 'Seven Visions of Seven Trials of the Incarnate'. Listen, and I will tell you the verses:

"_Seven trials_

What he puts his hand to, that shall be done.

What is left undone, that shall be done.

_First trial_

On a certain day to uncertain parents

Incarnate moon and star reborn.

_Second trial_

Neither blight nor age can harm him.

The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies.

_Third trial_

In caverns dark Azura's eye sees

and makes to shine the moon and star.

_Fourth trial_

A stranger's voice unites the Houses.

Three Halls call him Hortator."

_Fifth trial_

A stranger's hand unites the Velothi.

Four Tribes call him Nerevarine.

_Sixth trial_

He honours blood of the tribe unmourned.

He eats their sin, and is reborn.

_Seventh trial_

His mercy frees the cursed false Gods,

Binds the broken, redeems the mad.

_One destiny_

He speaks the law for Veloth's people.

He speaks for their land, and names them great.

"What does this prophecy mean? It tells us who the Nerevarine will be, and the trials he must undergo before he fulfils his destiny. Some parts I understand. Some parts I do not. I will answer your questions as best I can. But I cannot pretend to understand it all."

"What does the first trial mean?" Llovesi was enraptured. Julan shifted uncomfortably beside her again.

"This refers to your birthsign - to your birth on a certain day to uncertain parents, just like in the Stranger prophecy."

"And the second?"

"I'm not sure what it means. Will the Nerevarine come as a spirit who is not harmed by Blight or age? I don't know. But I think Curse-of-Flesh means the Blight disease Corprus, which causes terrible, distorted growths on its victims. Perhaps the Nerevarine can heal this disease. Perhaps that will be a sign of the Nerevarine.

"As for the third trial, I cannot say. In legend there is a shrine to Azura called the Cavern of the Incarnate. There are secrets I may not tell you about this cavern. Do not ask."

"But what of the fourth trial, and the fifth?"

"A 'Hortator' is a war-leader chosen when Dunmer great houses must put aside their normal feuds to unite against a common enemy. This has not happened since the Empire invaded our land.

"The Ashlanders are sometimes called the Velothi, for the prophet Veloth who guided us to this land many, many centuries ago. And the Four Tribes are the four tribes of Vvardenfell, the Urshilaku, the Ahemmusa, the Zainab, and the Erabenimsun. It would truly be a miracle to unite these four tribes who have so long raided and warred with one another. But the Nerevarine must be one who performs miracles.

"I am not sure about the sixth trial. The tribe 'unmourned' may mean the Sixth House, House Dagoth, which was exterminated after the Battle of Red Mountain. But it may also mean the Dwemer, or the Dwarves, as Westerners call them. And 'eating sin' is doing atonement for another's sin.

"As for the seventh trial, 'The cursed false Gods' must be the Tribunal. They are surely false Gods, evil sorcerers and necromancers, and they murdered Nerevar so they might set themselves up as Gods. 'Binds the broken' must refer to Nerevar's broken promise to the Ashlanders to honour the ways of the Spirits and rights of the Land."

"And one destiny?" Llovesi asked, having an idea where the trials were going.

"Veloth's people are the Dunmer, all Dunmer, Ashlander and Great House. The last time the Velothi were united was with Nerevar at the Battle of Red Mountain. Now Nerevar will come once again and unite the Dunmer. He will restore Morrowind to the Dunmer, and restore the former greatness of the Velothi people."

Llovesi breathed deeply. There was a lot to take in, but the trials were not signs of who, or what, she was, more what she had to do.

"What about the lost prophecies?" she asked.

"There are Nerevarine prophecies that have been lost. The Seven Curses. And others. Some are forgotten. Some hidden. Some deliberately lost. The wise women are the memory of the Velothi people. But it is a faulty memory, and we are mortal, and our knowledge dies with us. But we hear that the Dissident Priests of the Temple study our Nerevarine prophecies, and record them in books. Such written words never die. You must go to them and ask for these books, and bring what you find to me."

Nibani smiled unexpectedly, and her face lit up.

"I have talked much, Clanfriend. You have indeed been wise and patient. Now, I am sure you wish to know 'do I pass the test'? So ask, and I shall answer."

"Do I pass the test?"

"You are not the Nerevarine. You are one who may become the Nerevarine. It is a puzzle, and a hard one. But you have found some of the pieces, and you may find more. Do you choose to be the Nerevarine? Then seek the lost prophecies among the Dissident priests of the Temple. Find the lost prophecies, bring them to me, and I will be your guide. Now. I have told you all I know. Go. Think on what I've told you. And do what must be done."

Julan stood immediately, stretched his legs and, bowing his head respectfully, ducked out of the tent.

Llovesi hesitated. What Nibani said had both relieved and puzzled her. She wasn't sure if it had helped her move along at all. She still had more questions than there were answers. She wasn't the Nerevarine, but she could become the Nerevarine. It was as Caius said: there is always a choice. But it had puzzled Nibani too.

Nibani, who was now watching her politely. Llovesi stood. "Thank you," she said.

"No matter, Clanfried. You know what you must now do."

Llovesi paused again, then made up her mind. "Nibani, do you remember anyone called Mashti? Mashti Kaushibael?"

The wise woman looked surprised as she rose to her feet. "Why, yes I do. It has been nigh on twenty years since I last heard that name. She was the daughter of our previous Ashkhan but she left to marry a man from the Ahemmusa. Is she still with them?"

Llovesi nodded, then followed Juan out of the tent. Maybe Mashti hadn't been as honest as she'd thought. Still, there was only one way to be sure about the truth behind Julan's life, and that was to ask the Ahemmusa. She couldn't exactly do that with Julan in tow, nor could she think of any good excuses to head over that way immediately. Best to leave it for now.

Julan grinned at her as she joined him. "So, Nibani said you're not the Nerevarine. No surprise there. Shall we go back to adventuring?"

"She said that I wasn't the Nerevarine, but that I might _become_ the Nerevarine. Strange..." Llovesi said.

"That doesn't really mean anything," Julan replied hastily. "It's the way the prophecies work – anyone who fits the description could be the Incarnate in theory, but only one person will achieve it. That why we have failed Incarnates. Like Nibani said: 'Many fall, but one remains'."

"Maybe I should do what Nibani said, and seek out the lost prophecies."

"Oh, they probably don't even exist, it's a waste of time. Can't we just go and do some guild jobs?"

"But aren't you curious about the prophecies? It might help you figure out what to do next."

Julan looked thoughtful. "Good point," he said slowly. "Now that I think about it, you pretending to be the Nerevarine might not be so bad! The Temple and the Tribunal will focus on you as the Incarnate and assume I'm just a companion – when actually it's the other way round!"

"Oh, thanks," Llovesi said, folding her arms, "so I get to be your decoy? Is that any way to treat your girlfriend?"

"Aha! So you have forgiven me completely!" Julan's smile threatened to split his face.

"Oh, I... just watch it, ok!" She was about to mock-cuff him when they were interrupted by a voice.

"Good evening, Clanfriend, sera." It was a young Dunmer, her dark hair falling around her shoulders in many small braids. She bowed before them. "Ashkhan Sul-Matuul has told us your story..." She looked as if she wanted to ask more, but didn't. "I am Kurapli's daughter. She bids you both join us for dinner tonight in our yurt."

They followed her to a central yurt. The smell of cooking drifted from it, as well as the squeals of small children. The teenager lifted the entrance.

"Mother? They're here."

Kurapli smiled as she stirred the pot on the fire. "Thank you, Kushti. Airan-Zan, Sulullah, quiet now please!"

She needn't have said anything. When Llovesi and Julan walked in, the small boy and girl play-fighting on the rug stopped in awe. Llovesi realised that they had probably never seen anyone from outside the camp before.

Kurapli laid cushions on the rug, while Kushti ladled the soup into wooden bowls.

"It is trama root and scathecraw," Kurapli said as she passed the bowls round. "Perhaps not what you are used to, but meat and fresher vegetables are harder to come by in this region."

"It looks delicious." Llovesi said politely. "Thank you for your hospitality, sera."

"I hope you do not find me disingenuous, Clanfriend, but I invited you here tonight for another purpose. But let us first eat, for I will not spoil your meal with such talk."

They ate, and Llovesi found it was actually quite delicious, but in truth she had enjoyed most of the food on Vvardenfell, to the amazement of other immigrants.

When they had finished, Kurapli asked Kushti to take the twins to play outside.

"Now, Clanfriend," she began gravely; her happy demeanour replaced by something sadder, "can I beg you and your companion to assist me with a matter of personal vengeance?"

"What do you want us to do?" Julan asked.

Kurapli closed her eyes. "A year ago, Zallay Subaddamael, an outcast ashlander, betrayed Urshilaku hospitality and killed my husband. If you could find Zallay Subaddamael, kill him, and bring the justice of his death to me, I can promise you a fine reward - my dead husband's enchanted Spirit Spear. It is a great treasure, but I would be glad if it might purchase the vengeance that would set my husband's spirit to rest. Bring me news of Zallay Subaddamael's death, and the Spirit Spear is yours. I would spill his blood myself, but I am the camp's only trader, and I cannot risk leaving my children without a mother as well."

"Where can we find him?" Llovesi asked, her heart hardening at the woman's tale.

"I have heard that he has taken refuge in a place called Aharasaplit on the island of Sheogorad, the large island north of Vvardenfell. You might find information about Zallay Subaddamael or Aharasaplit camp in the fishing village of Dagon Fel on Sheogorad island."

"We will do this gladly, sera." Llovesi said.

The woman smiled sadly. "Thank you. Now please, do me the honour of resting here with us tonight."


	19. Murderous Witch

_**Chapter 18: Murderous Witch**_

Now that she was Clanfriend, the Urshilaku Camp was transformed in Llovesi's eyes. The Ashlanders remained haughty and conservative, but they now treated her and Julan as members of the tribe. Llovesi spent the remainder of the week with them, talking, learning of their history. She helped with daily tasks: gathering food, making repairs, and fetching firewood. She talked to the teenagers about her adventures, some of them wondering about their future in the camp. She played with the children, letting them braid her hair and put beads in it. Julan resisted at first, but crumbled under Llovesi's teasing and let the children decorate him too.

"I look ridiculous," he grumbled.

"No, you don't!" Llovesi said, but in truth he did look quite funny. "I'm the one who looks pretty daft."

"It suits you," Julan said, letting his fingers run through the tiny plaits; he pulled her face close and kissed her.

Their relationship was more charged than before, but Llovesi was glad that they were no longer arguing. Julan didn't seem to mind the constant questions she got about her claim to the title of Nerevarine, it appeared he was serious in his suggestion that she would make a good decoy. Llovesi decided to let him think that; she was too curious about the truth (_if there was a truth_) to mind.

Finally, at the end of the week, they took their leave. Instead of heading directly south, they walked east along the coast, with the intention of avenging Kurapli's husband before Llovesi reported back to Caius. They had just crossed into the Grazelands, and Llovesi was thinking about how she could justify a quick side-trip to the Ahemmusa.

"Julan, wait here a second," she said, stopping him on the beach just beyond the large Daedric ruins. "I just remembered, I have to go to the Ahemmusa for something!"

Julan looked bemused. "What in Oblivion for?"

"It's a surprise. Look, just wait here, I won't be long at all." _Not if I can help it._

Julan nodded, still looking a bit confused, and sat down on the beach. Llovesi jogged up the hill towards the camp. She would pick up some arrows or something from the trader as a gift; say she had asked for them the last time she was there.

She bumped into an Ashlander at the outskirts of the camp. It was Rakeem, the scout whom she had questioned on the whereabouts of Rels Tenim weeks ago.

"Excuse me, sera, would you mind telling me who your trader is?" she asked.

"Certainly, outlander," the Ashlander replied. "Our trader, Lanabi, has her yurt with the Ashkhan's and the gulakhan's yurts." He pointed it out.

Llovesi thanked him, then doubled back. "Er, you haven't seen Shani at all, have you?" she asked.

Rakeem shrugged. "If you not see her, then she not yet return from the hunt."

"Right." Llovesi walked over to the traders. _Is it normal for hunting trips to last for weeks on end?_

Lanabi did indeed have a selection of enchanted arrows for sale, so Llovesi bought them all, then asked her about Mashti Kaushibael.

The woman drew in her breath sharply.

"Mashti Kaushibael? Married? That's not how it was, outlander. But this is private tribal business and none of your concern. And by Boethiah, don't mention such a thing to Ahmabi!"

She shooed Llovesi from her yurt.

Llovesi placed the bundles of arrows in her pack, and looked round the camp thoughtfully, feeling unusually brave after her week spent with the Urshilaku. _Don't mention such a thing to Ahmabi? _she thought. _Well, why ever not?_

She strode over to the Ashkhan's yurt nearby, and lifted the opening. An old Dunmer woman whirled round as light filtered into the yurt.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Who said you could come in here?"

"Forgive me for entering your yurt uninvited," Llovesi said. "I wondered what you know about Mashti Kaushibael being married to a man from this camp?"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" The woman shouted, her face suddenly twisting into an alarming grimace. "Han-Sashael was only ever married to _one_ woman and that was _me_! How _dare_ you suggest that whatever that evil, murderous witch did to him had any connection to a marriage before the Gods!"

She threw a clay pot; the sudden smash as it broke on the hard floor was as shocking as her outburst.

"He was _mine_! He loved _me_! And when she couldn't have him she _killed _him!"

She seized another pot: _smash_.

"GET OUT!" _Smash_. "Get _out_!"

For a moment Llovesi thought the woman would actually attack her, but she collapsed onto her bedroll in noisy, racking sobs. Feeling slightly guilty, knowing that she had definitely overstepped the mark, Llovesi ducked out of the yurt.

She met the curious eyes of a few Ashlanders who had probably gathered to see what the noise was.

One stepped forwards. "Outlander, I do not know what you said to Ahmabi, nor do I wish to. Leave now, before you cause any more disturbance."

Such was the hostility and sadness radiating from the group that Llovesi left without a word, her head bowed in shame. She bumped into Rakeem on the edge of the camp.

He shook his head woefully. "Outlander, what have you caused?"

"I just want to know about Mashti Kaushibael's past here."

He shook his head again. "You stick your nose where it is not wanted. What she did, we do not talk about. It was a sad, sad day for the Ahemmusa."

"Rakeem... do you know something?"

The man sighed heavily. "I tell you this because I know you are Shani's friend, even though the others would not want you to know. I was there when the witch-woman work her evil magic upon our strongest warriors. It was bad, very bad. I alone survive, and I wish I am dead with them. There is no honour left for our people now."

"What happened?" Llovesi asked, her mouth dry.

"It was three summers ago. Han-Sashael, he pick me to join his hunting party. We roam around the Grazelands, bring food home, kill the bad things, protect the camp." Rakeem said, gesturing as he told the story. "We are proud, the best warriors of the tribe. That day we come upon Daedra, four of them. Hungers, you call them. Ugly creatures with the long claws, yes? To see four at one, this was strange. They just stand there, like they wait for us. So we attack. We are warriors, yes? So we fight the Daedra, bow and blade. But it seems we not hurt them very much before they start running away. Not very fast, but fast enough to make us follow them, yes? This is tricksy for Daedra, but we not think that at the time. Our prey flee, we chase. This is hunting, yes?

"Those tricksy Daedra run into a cave. Hah, says the Ashkhan, they are afraid. We shall slaughter them all, and carry their skins home in glory. He tells one man to stand watch at the cave mouth, and tells me to run quickquick back to the camp and bring the packguar, for the carrying of the prizes. So I run run run, and then I see her. She moving fast between the rocks, straight to the cave. I not see her face, too far, but I see the sun shine off her dagger.

"I am afraid, then, for I know of the witch-women, and what they do to men with their ghost-snake. I crouch still, not move. Watch. She summon her evil magics, she kill the man at the cave mouth, Ainab. He was a big man, but she drop him down quickquick. Then she go inside. I hear the screaming then, and I move, and I run run run to the camp, fetch everyone who can hold a weapon. We come back, but too late, too late...

"In the cave, dead warriors. Dead Daedra, every kind of Daedra. Many, many Daedra she had put there, waiting for the men. They dead, all. But Han-Sashael, he not there among the dead, and no witch either. She lure him into the deep tunnels, where she catch him unawares, for she never beat him in fair fighting, even with Daedra. We hear his death scream, but we never find the body.

"When we hear our strong Ashkhan is dead, we very much afraid. We take the bodies of the warriors, and run run run. And when we get far from the cave, we look, and again we see the witch-woman. She come out that cave with no drop of blood on her – those Daedra, they not touch her at all. But we are too frightened to seek vengeance upon her for our dead. She has strong and evil magics.

"Ai, that was a dark day for our tribe. Many strong warriors, cruelly slain. My brother, my cousin. Our most brave Ashkhan. The tribe never recover again. Now we just waiting for the bad things to come from the mountain and kill us, for we have no more strong warriors. No more honour for the Ahemmusa."

Rakeem turned away, sighing and muttering in Dunmeris, his story finished. Llovesi wondered if it was the most he had ever spoken in Tamraelic, but she decided it would be rude to ask. She shivered, then jogged back to the beach where she had left Julan. Could it be possible? She thought of how cold and terrifying Mashti had appeared when threatening her.

Yes, it was possible. But _why_? Llovesi was scared now, too scared to confront Mashti and Julan would never hear a word of it. She tried to put it out of her mind, but the thoughts of all those strong warriors, scared witless, kept rising in front of her eyes.

No wonder the Ahemmusa seemed so few, so dejected, the children so sickly. _They're just waiting for their doom, _she thought sadly. _Well, if I am Nerevarine, I'll put a stop to that. But what can I do?_


	20. In the Flesh

_**Chapter 19: In the Flesh**_

There was plenty of time to think on the silt strider from Khuul down to Balmora. Airan-Ahhe's spirit spear strapped to her back alongside Illkurok, Llovesi wrote her report for Caius, while her mind travelled over the sea to the camp where they had killed Zallay Subaddamael. It also travelled west to the Urshilaku and east to the Ahemmusa: people waiting for a miracle. She thought of the people in Ald'ruhn and Balmora, scared to walk the streets.

So many broken dreams, fears, hopes and expectations. It was a tall order. _Still_, Llovesi thought, _it's not my order to fulfil. Not yet. I don't know that. Caius will tell me what to do next. But still, I want to help somehow._

She cast a sidelong glance at Julan, his hair blowing back in the wind as he surveyed the passing land. _I'll help by helping him_. _But is he the Nerevarine, or could it be me? _

She finished the sentence she was writing, put the report in her pack and sighed. Everything she had heard, everything she had discovered, it seemed like they were still at the foot of the mountain.

Julan turned his head. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I just feel, I don't know, slightly overwhelmed I guess."

He smiled and squeezed her shoulders with his arm. "Don't be like that, we make a great team, don't we?"

They changed silt striders in Ald'ruhn and by late afternoon they were back in front of Caius's home.

Balmora seemed even bigger to Llovesi, after her week in the wilderness. Julan took up position against the wall.

"You're sort of like a double, double agent now, aren't you?" He grinned. "A triple agent."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Emperor wants you to be the Nerevarine, so you're pretending for him, but you're also pretending for me. And Caius doesn't know that I know. I don't know how you do it, really."

Llovesi sighed. "Don't start that stuff again, it's not as funny as you think it is. I won't be long, okay?"

* * *

_Caius looked up from his book as the Finder, as Llovesi, entered his house. He had to admit to himself, she looked good. Had it really been four months ago that a trembling slip of a Dunmer girl stood sniffling before him? Now she stood tall and strong, clothed in armour and well-tailored, if tatty, garments, amulets round her neck and rings on her fingers, weapons at her hips and on her back. The braids too, they were new. She looked almost native. Almost. But was she going to be strong enough? He retrieved the piece of paper detailing her next mission from the table. For what she had in store next, he hoped she was. For everyone's sake._

* * *

"Greetings Finder. I presume your week with the Ashlanders was productive?"

"It was. Here; my report."

Caius leafed through the pages. "Excellent work. I'll read it in full later. You've spoken with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa, and, from what they say; it sounds like you could really be the Nerevarine. That's just incredible. But I'll have to get used to the idea. Let me try to get word to Mehra Milo. Maybe she can find out whether the Dissident Priests have any lost prophecies. But in the meantime, I have a very tough assignment for you. Do you think you're ready?"

Caius's manner perturbed Llovesi. "Yes... I think so. I'm willing but cautious, as always."

He gave her an appraising look. "Good. Cautious is smart. Cautious is safe. I'm going to give you the mission. Before you head out, make sure you outfit yourself with healing potions, a little training, whatever you think you need most. And if you get in trouble, back off, rest up, and go back fresh. Don't take any chances. As I said, I think this will be a tough one.

"Here's your mission. Fort Buckmoth sent a patrol to Gnaar Mok, hunting smugglers with Sixth House connections. They found a Sixth House base, a Sixth House shrine, and a Sixth House priest named Dagoth Gares. Speak to Champion Raesa Pullia at Fort Buckmoth; she'll tell you about the patrol and the Sixth House base. Your orders: find that Sixth House base, kill Dagoth Gares, and bring me a full report on the Sixth House base."

When Llovesi left Caius's house, her face was approximately the colour of the Ashlands.

Julan sprang up from the wall. "By Azura, what happened?"

"I, I have to clear a Sixth House base."

Julan's face was a picture. "You WHAT? Are you sure? That sounds interesting. And dangerous. Probably suicidally dangerous. Well if it's something you've got to do, then I'll be right there with you. You're going to need all the help you can get!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Llovesi said dryly, and his joke eased her mind a little.

They spent the night at the Fighters Guild then set off early the next morning for Ald'ruhn.

They were walking towards Buckmoth, when they saw a small figure walking in their direction. It was Ren. Remembering their last encounter a month ago, Llovesi made a conscious effort to avoid her. But the Breton had seen them. Up close she looked a mess; her face was blotchy, as if she had been crying.

"Llovesi! Thank the Gods, I'd been hoping... Listen-"

Llovesi kept walking determinedly towards the fort. Ren shouted at her back.

"I'm sorry about the last time! Clause has gone missing again! I know you don't care! I know it wasn't your fault! But I can't think who else to ask! He left with a patrol going to the Bitter Coast to serve as a healer and they haven't come back!"

Llovesi turned round, her heart rising in her mouth. "Ren, I, I'll see what I can do... but..."

The Breton nodded, and walked off in the direction of Ald'ruhn. Julan looked anxious. "Doesn't sound good," he said.

Llovesi nodded. "I know. Look, I haven't thought about him in months. A month. But if something's happened... I mean... that doesn't mean..." she shook her head, unable to finish.

Julan smiled. "I get it. It's like me and Shani. You just wish things could have worked out better."

* * *

In the fort, Raesa Pullia was pacing in the quiet stone hallway, her steel boots clicking with every step. Her auburn hair was cropped to her neck, and she ran a gauntleted hand through it impatiently.

"You're Llovesi?" she asked. "Caius sent you? He says you're then one to handle this Sixth House Base? And you've brought back-up? Excellent. I'm worried about this, and it's not an emotion I'm used to experiencing."

"What happened?" Llovesi asked. Raesa led them over to an overflowing desk and rifled through the papers there.

"It's an absolute nightmare," she said. "Never had anything like it. I've been writing reports and letters all morning. A bad, bad situation. Aha!" She pulled a map and several reports from the middle of the pile and scanned them.

"The patrol left yesterday, with the aim of investigating the honeycomb of smuggling caves on the Bitter Coast for Sixth House activity. Only one trooper returned. He died soon after, horribly disfigured with Corprus disease, and out of his wits. In his ravings, he spoke of a cavern on the coast - he called it 'Ilunibi'. It's not on our maps; try asking locals in Gnaar Mok. They fought with cultists and disfigured man-beasts - Corprus monsters, I think. They fled the attackers and got lost in the caves. Then they ran into a half-man creature named Dagoth Gares.

"This Dagoth Gares slew the rest of the patrol, but spared the one trooper. He told the trooper he was being spared, so he might tell others that 'The Sleeper Awakes'," she read off of a report, "and 'The Sixth House has Risen', and 'Dagoth Ur is Lord, and I am his Priest', and 'All will be One with Him in the Flesh'. The trooper awakened outside the caves and returned here. We couldn't recognise him, and he didn't respond to questions... just kept rambling on like a madman until he died.

"I've heard of Corprus disease before, but never seen it. The trooper's flesh was swollen and covered with growths. His bones twisted and lost their shape. He spoke to himself, as if in a dream. We didn't recognise him at first, except for his clothing and armour. The fort chaplain tried spells and potions, but couldn't cure the disease. He died soon after he reached the fort. Didn't realise how fast Corprus kills. It sure wasn't pretty. The troops seem shaken. I'm a little worried myself, to tell the truth."

Her voice was shaky, and she leant against the desk as if to steady herself. It was quite something to see a hardened Legionnaire react like this. Llovesi remembered the creature she had killed on Red Mountain, and the Corprus victim in Berwen's shop. Neither were easy memories.

"Thank you for the information, I'll do my best to avenge their deaths," she said.

Raesa nodded. "Good on you. Stock up on Resist Blight and Cure Blight potions here before you leave. Even if you... if you do get lucky, I've heard those creatures can still transmit a nasty case of the Blight. I'll be honest Llovesi; I'm not sure how two of you can hope to do what a whole troop of Legionnaires failed to. Still, best of luck to you."

* * *

As no direct route to Gnaar Mok existed, Llovesi and Julan decided to walk west; following directions that Raesa had given them. With all the hills to traverse, it took them the best part of a day. Llovesi was almost relieved when the familiar smell of swamp muck and dripping ferns wafted through the air, but not much.

"Urgh, I haven't missed this region," she said, as they pushed their way through slippery vines.

She had never seen Gnaar Mok before, but it was much like Hla Oad or Seyda Neen, if a tiny bit bigger, with a shabby Hlaalu mansion at the north end of town.

Most of the locals seemed to be absent, perhaps because of the ominous grey clouds in the sky. They made their way through the thatched shacks. A sole Dunmer woman was fishing on the pier.

"Excuse me, sera, could you tell me where to find the Ilunibi caverns please?" Llovesi asked.

The woman reeled her line in and checked the float without looking at them.

"'Ilunibi caverns'," she said. "That's what they call the old sea cave up on the north end of the island, right on Khartag Point. Don't poke around in there. It's a convenient smuggler's hole, and they might not welcome visitors."

"Could you show me where Khartag Point is on my map please?"

The woman sighed and stood up. "Here," she said, jabbing a finger roughly north of the town, "It's a gigantic boulder. Some of the Orcs consider it a landmark. Why, I don't know. Some Orc or another jumped off on a dare. It didn't end well. You're not tourists, are you? You don't look like it. Will you let me get back to my fishing now, outlander? I have to get this catch in before the storm breaks."

Khartag Point was indeed only a short walk away. Llovesi and Julan waded through the freezing water and found a rotted door covering the mouth of a cave.

"Is this it?" Julan asked.

"Yes," Llovesi replied, "look." She pointed at a sword sticking out of the mud nearby. An Imperial broadsword. There was a small wooden sign covered in ferns nearby. Llovesi brushed them away. It read 'Ilunibi', but that had been crossed out and someone had carved 'Carcass of the Saint' underneath. With their own fingernails, by the looks of it.

"I have a really bad feeling about this place, Llovesi," Julan said, and he did look a little bit sick.

"You and me both Julan," Llovesi replied, moving over and squeezing his hand for comfort.

There was nothing for it. She pushed open the door with her shoulder, its rusted hinges presenting only the slightest resistance.

When she stepped into the cave, she gagged. A Legionnaire had fallen back from the door, stiff and his face frozen in an expression of horror. Dried blood cracked around his mouth and flies buzzed around his wounds. The door had long scratches on it, as if he'd died while trying to claw his way out. His body stank of rot and disease.

"Come on," Llovesi said, pulling Julan past the body. His face held an expression of shock that she was sure mirrored her own.

Julan shook his head, and heaved. "This is awful. And this place... it just doesn't feel right. I can't explain it. But I don't like it."

Llovesi nodded. She wasn't sure if she felt the same, or if it was simply her own dread, but the whole cave was thick with a stale smell that was worse than the dead soldier on the ground. It was as if the very walls were rotting. It was hard to breath.

The cave opened up before them into a wide pool of water, into which a waterfall flowed. They scrambled down the rocks.

That was when Llovesi saw it.

A figure was stumbling towards them. Its legs were twisted, as if all the bones had been broken. It was wearing the remains of a blue robe, which had ripped in places. Great bulges of flesh showed beneath, and oozing sores. It bellowed as it grabbed at its hair in torment. Its red hair.

"Noooooo!" Someone was screaming. Julan ran past her with magicka burning in his hands. But everything was moving in slow motion. Someone was still screaming. It was her.

"No! Clause, no!"

It felt like hours later when Julan shook her shoulders and gently peeled her hands away from her eyes.

"He's dead now. Llovesi I'm so so sorry." He fell to his knees and hugged her in the gloom. She clung to him desperately, trying to think of something, anything rather than what had just happened.

"I can't do this, Julan, I can't!" she sobbed.

Julan was silent for a while. Then he spoke. "If I had my way, we'd be out of this cave right now. But, you can do this. You're strong."

It took every last effort she had, but Llovesi pushed herself to her feet. They walked past the body of the former Clause Renardette. Llovesi couldn't bring herself to look; she hated herself for leaving him there in the dank, evil cave. It was an act of cowardice she would carry with her forever, in a dark part of her memory.

The cave was lit by clumps of candles, their red wax dripping down the walls, but it still seemed almost impossibly murky. They passed through long tunnels, through wooden doors, each with a chilling name scratched into their surface. They waded through knee-deep water, as freezing as it was stagnant. They found bodies of Legionnaires, bodies everywhere, and tried not to look. They fought Corprus monsters; some so deranged it was pitiful to kill them. Wild-looking naked Dunmer sprang at them from the darkness, waving spiked clubs and shouting about the Sixth House. They fought humanoid... things, with grey skin and stooped postures that Julan identified as ash monsters.

But they made it through the cave.

Llovesi started to think that they might just live to tell the tale. They reached a roughly hewn stone staircase, flanked by lit braziers. At the top, they found a door. 'Soul's Rattle' was roughly carved into the dark wood.

Julan squeezed her arm suddenly, making her gasp. "I have an _incredibly_ bad feeling about this," he whispered. "I know I've said it before, but I mean it this time. Trust me, there is something _very bad_ through this door."

Llovesi only had the same feeling of dread and despair that had encumbered her since they walked through the front door, what felt like an eternity ago. She saw no reason to disbelieve Julan though, so she opened the door carefully.

The air was even thicker, and somehow seemed red. Two Dreamers rushed at them, clubs held high, but Llovesi and Julan cut them down. Her breath hitching in her throat, Llovesi walked to the end of the passageway.

It was a shrine. At least, that was what it had to be. But she had never seen a shrine like it. A figure much like the ash statues they had seen before rose from the centre of the dais, smoking from whatever burned within it. Black plinths carved with red symbols surrounded it.

They moved into the room quickly. Llovesi could feel her heart beating hard, her hands were slick with sweat as she held her spear in front of her. Julan moved to examine the troughs at the back of the room.

"Hey," he whispered loudly, "there're some enchanted gauntlets here! And glass boots, wow! Maybe this was worth it after all."

Llovesi walked towards a row of large bells hanging from a rack and the back of the room. She tapped one with her spear. It rang, with an odd, off-key note that echoed loudly off the walls, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She wished she hadn't done it.

"Don't do that," Julan whispered from beside her, making her jump, "it sounded all wrong."

"This has got to be a trap." Llovesi whispered back. "Where is Dagoth Gares?"

As if her voice had summoned it, a reply came.

"The Sixth House greets you, Lord Nerevar. Or Llovesi, as you call yourself. I am known as Dagoth Gares, priest of Ilunibi Shrine, and minister to Sixth House servants. My Lord, Dagoth Ur, has informed me of your coming. I wish that this time you had come to honour your Lord's friendship, not to betray it."

They wheeled round, Julan holding Llovesi's elbow so firmly he threatened to break her arm.

It was, _well_, Llovesi didn't know. Had it once been a man? The creature was tall and thin, draped in a thick grey robe. But its face, _oh Gods its face_. It was as if someone had crudely hewn out a great chunk of its skull where its eyes and nose should be and filled it with a fleshy trunk. It stood in the doorway, blocking their escape.

"Sh..Sheogorath!" Julan whispered in Llovesi's ear. "That's just like the things from my dreams! We have to get _out _of here _now_, Llovesi, this is bad, bad, BAD!"

Dagoth Gares continued to make his speech; Llovesi didn't know how he could even talk. His voice was like a death rattle.

"The Sixth House was not dead, but only sleeping. Now it wakes from its long dream, and with its Lord, Dagoth Ur, it comes forth to free Morrowind of foreign rulers and divine pretenders. When the land is swept clean of false friends and greedy thieves, the children of Veloth will build anew a garden of plenty in this blighted wasteland.

"Forgive the rude welcome, but until you have declared for us, we must treat you as our enemy. The Sleepers and Dreamers are newly come to Lord Dagoth, and not yet blessed with his power. But the Children of His Flesh, they are deep in the heart of his mysteries. Their bodies swell to contain his glory, and to yield the rich sacraments of our Lord's feasts. And we are the least of his servants, for Ash Poets, Ascended Sleepers, and Ash Vampires stand high above us in the Lord's bountiful grace."

Llovesi felt sick to her stomach. "Whatever you have to say, say it!" she snapped. She was dismayed to hear her voice come out shrill and panicky.

Dagoth Gares bowed low and laced his fingers together.

"Lord Dagoth gives me these words to say to you, so you may give them thought. 'Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. Yet beneath Red Mountain, you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to defend. But, remembering our old friendship, I would forgive you, and raise you high in my service.

"My Lord Dagoth bids you come to Red Mountain. For the friendship and honour that once you shared, he would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew. I am not your Lord Dagoth, yet I, too, would say to you... Do you come with weapons to strike me down? Or would you put away your weapon, and join me in friendship?"

"I will never join you." Llovesi said, finding the strength in her voice. "Never."

"A regretful decision," Dagoth Gares whispered. Then he attacked.

A barrage of spells flew through the air. The first hit Llovesi squarely in the chest, knocking her off her feet and sending her flying backwards. She felt the life drain from her. Then the creature was on her, his rank breath in her ears, clawing viciously at her skin.

Suddenly he howled and rolled to one side. An arrow was sticking from his neck.

Julan pulled Llovesi to her feet. "Llovesi, we have to run!" he shouted.

"I'm finishing what we came here for!" She grabbed her spear and stood over the creature as he grasped at the arrow buried in his throat. She raised the spear high, and plunged the tip into his chest.

Suddenly, he sat up and grabbed her forearms. "Even as my master wills," he wheezed, "you shall come to him, in his flesh, and of his flesh..." He fell to the ground, dead.

A burning pain spread through Llovesi, from where he touched her to the rest of her body. She felt weak suddenly, and fell to her knees.

Julan grabbed Llovesi from behind.

"It's dead! We did it! Praise Azura!" He spun her round to hug her, but backed away suddenly. "What, what's the matter with you?"

Llovesi raised her arms to her face in horror. The sleeves of her shirt fell down. Two raw, red rashes had appeared where Dagoth Gares had last laid his hands. They were spreading before her eyes, blistering and puckering the skin. She felt her cuirass tighten as the skin beneath it swelled. It itched, _oh Divines_, it itched.

"Julan..." she said in a small voice, and turned to face him, holding her arms aloft.

He recoiled in horror. "Sheogorath! You have Corprus disease! That _bastard _cursed you with Corprus!"


	21. So Futile

**A/N: Many thanks to Newtinmpls for your message of support, and to FloridaMagpie for the reviews - I hope this chapter and the next live up to your expectations!**

* * *

**_Chapter 20: So Futile_**

Llovesi was curled in a ball on the hard ground of Ilunibi. Julan was speaking somewhere in the distance. She forced herself to listen.

"... incurable... always fatal... Ai, Llovesi, I'm so sorry, I don't know what to say..."

He reached down and pulled her to her feet. She slapped him away.

"Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Please," she sobbed, "please, Julan, I can't lose you!"

Julan looked uncomfortable, but he didn't let her go. "I'm immune, Llovesi. My mother made me drink all sort of disgusting herbal concoctions for a week before I left to go to Red Mountain. Gah! Why didn't I get her to do the same for you?"

So Julan would only touch her because there was no risk of catching the disease. No else would ever touch her again. No one would speak to her, no one would come near her.

"Julan," she said dully, "you have to leave me here. I'm infectious. I'm dangerous."

"Llovesi, listen to me," he said, kneeling beside her. "I'm not leaving you!"

"I've got Corprus, Julan!" she shouted. "I'm going to die!" She hadn't wanted to say it, saying it made it real, but she had to. Had to accept her fate. Was this what her life had been leading up to? What a waste. Well, she couldn't be the Nerevarine now. She clearly wasn't immune.

She drew her dagger and swiftly cut her arm. "Look!" she screamed. The skin hardened almost instantly, growing thick and bulbous beneath their eyes.

"Don't do that, Llovesi!" Julan slapped the dagger from her hand. "I'm not leaving you here to die alone! I would never! Caius, Caius must have planned for this. We must go back to him."

He pulled her to her feet, and Llovesi allowed herself to be led back through the cave. Her bones ached, her mind ached. _What's the point? It's so futile._

Every step was an effort; every breath reminded her of the life she was losing. _I'm like Clause now. Joined in the ash, joined in the flesh. How long have I got left?_

* * *

She must have fainted, because she woke as Julan laid her by some rocks.

"Wha? Where are we?" she asked weakly.

"Just outside Caldera," he replied. "Stay here, I'm going to buy you another cloak to, to ah, cover your face."

Her cuirass was too tight, far too tight. She ripped it off, ripped through her shirt. Scratched the itch. _Ah, that's better, look at how the blood runs it's funny really oh Gods it still itches but the welts are so deep why is it going dark_...

"Llovesi!" Julan was standing over her, looking aghast. She was vaguely aware of a sticky liquid pooling around her sides. "What in Oblivion... put this on, let me help you."

She fumbled her limbs into the thick winter cloak Julan offered her, pulled the hood low over her face.

"Better... just leave me here... let me sleep."

"No. Llovesi, I'm getting you to Balmora, but I can't carry you the whole way. Please."

She cried then, tears pouring down her face. "I'm so sorry, so sorry."

* * *

Days into nights into days. The stars whirled round the earth at a dizzying pace. The red ash howled. Llovesi tried to concentrate on the roads as she stumbled along. Dry wicked trees. They lunged for her. A liquid came down her throat. Julan was helping her drink. She cried tears of humiliation.

* * *

Then there were moments of clarity too. She remembered fighting of a pack of nix-hounds. She could use both her spears as well, whirling them round her body, impaling creatures right and left. When the battle was won, Julan carefully took all her weapons away.

"You'll just hurt yourself more," he said gently. "Let me do the fighting for now."

* * *

The Red Mountain was inviting her. She longed to breathe in the ash. Why was her flesh so heavy? She tried to take it off, it was so cumbersome.

It hurt. Her mind yearned to be free.

* * *

Then they were looking down at Balmora. It stretched below them, lit with lanterns. Strangely, people were in the streets. Dancing. How could they be happy?

"It's Saturalia," Julan said. "The 25th of Evening Star. It took us three days to get here."

_Three days... only three days?_

He sat her down on a rock. "How are you feeling?"

"I've felt better." Mainly there was the constant headache. Every part of her body itched constantly. She pulled her hood lower, not wanting Julan to have to look at her face. If she'd been plain before, she was hideous now. A monster.

"Right," Julan said from far away. "I'm going to get Caius. Wait here, I won't be long this time."

So Llovesi waited, watching the lights swirl into a dizzying rainbow in the streets below.

* * *

"Llovesi."

She forced herself to look up, the hood falling from her face. It was Caius, fully dressed and carrying a sack. He looked down at her unflinchingly.

"Your friend told me what happened. With Dagoth Gares dead, the Sixth House shrine is no longer a threat. You've more than earned a promotion to the rank of Traveller. While I'm not at all impressed that you compromised your position to Julan here, I agree that it was best that you did. I'm far more worried that you have Corprus disease. But I have some good news in that department."

He knelt beside her. "I canvassed my informants for possible treatments, just in case you contracted the disease during your mission. I learned from Fast Eddie that your best chance of getting cured is Divayth Fyr, an ancient Telvanni wizard who runs a Corprusarium for victims of the disease."

He opened the sack to show her its contents.

"Take this Dwemer artefact and one thousand septims, and go to Tel Fyr. Divayth Fyr will like the Dwemer artefact. A gift may sweeten his disposition. The gold is for expenses. And here're a couple of Levitation potions. I hear you'll need them in Telvanni towers, because wizards don't use stairs. So get moving, and get that Corprus disease cured. Then hurry back. I think I know how to get the lost prophecies Nibani Maesa asked for."

"You... you do?" Llovesi asked. It seemed so unimportant.

"Yes," Caius said. "Now here, let me mark Tel Fyr on your map. You'll have to walk, but I think that's probably for the best. Good luck, Traveller."

He nodded curtly at Julan and set off back towards Balmora.

"You see, Llovesi?" Julan said excitedly. "I told you not to give up hope! If there's a chance Divayth Fyr could cure you, we have to try!"

Llovesi nodded, clinging on to an ignited spark of determination. It was a small hope, true, but it was still a hope and she could use that.

She got to her feet and took the first step of many towards her last chance.


	22. Nothing to Lose

**A/N: Thanks again to FloridaMagpie for your comments! Here follows the last body horror chapter for a while, in another attempt to completely squick everyone out. Enjoy!**

* * *

**_Chapter 21: Nothing to Lose_**

The journey to Tel Fyr felt like the longest of Llovesi's life. At the same time, she knew that it only took them a week. She had a goal, a glimmer of hope, and it was her first anchor to sanity. She still had hallucinations, but she now understood them as such. Still, it was terrifying to feel her mind slip away day by day, even if she was aware of it.

Her biggest barrier was willpower. That too ebbed away, as if her reserves of determination were held in a leaky urn, and every time she tried to stop the holes another one appeared.

She moved slowly. The first night they stopped she tried to remove her left boot, only to find that the bone had deformed so badly that the boot was quite stuck, as if welded to her skin. She hadn't noticed it happening. Other parts of her body caused her more pain; her muscles frequently felt as though they were trying to tear themselves apart. When such an attack occurred, it took all her self-will not to collapse onto the floor and howl in pain and despair. Other times, she felt strangely detached from her body, as if corprus wasn't happening to _her_, just some fleshy cage she happened to inhabit. But then there was the itching _and the whispering_ both of which wormed their way beyond her skin, into her mind, and she worried that maybe she was changing. It was so easy for her to get injured with these distractions, but it was also incredibly dangerous. Healing potions no longer helped: any wound she received was instantly covered by thick, fleshy growths.

After a while, she found it was too uncomfortable to sleep, and she wasn't tired. She would wander round the camp they made, trying to focus her mind on what she imagined Tel Fyr to be like. A Telvanni tower that would either be her cure, or her final resting place.

At first Julan didn't notice her night-time wanderings but when he did, he too went without sleep for longer, and they hiked through the night. Julan offered to take her pack, but she no longer felt its weight, even though Julan assured her that the artefact Caius had given her was quite heavy.

In many ways, Julan was her second anchor to sanity. He tried to engage her in conversation constantly, acting cheerfully, but she was not so far gone as to not detect the worry in his voice. He talked to her about Tel Fyr, and its master, Divayth Fyr, rumours of an eccentric wizard, millennia-old, and the experiments he supposedly did.

While Llovesi battled herself, mind and body, they trekked eastwards, past Lake Nabia and through the Molag Amur region, carefully avoiding settlements and rationing their provisions – although Llovesi found that she had greatly lost her appetite as well. Yet she often found herself contemplating eating her own flesh. A repulsive thought, it had to be, yet still she craved it.

Finally, after days of tireless journeying through the barren landscape, with only lava pools to break up the scenery, they crossed the sea from a small deserted beach.

"Tel Fyr," Julan said, holding the map and checking their position. "This must be it, Llovesi."

She merely nodded wearily in response, and they pushed open the small wooden door and entered the mushroom tower.

"Greetings, Travellers!" An unusually bright and airy voice cut through Llovesi's Corprus-fuelled haze. A Dunmer woman, in bonemold armour, was standing before them.

"Are you here to plunder the dungeon? Have you got Corprus disease? Did you want to talk to Divayth Fyr?" she asked, cheerily.

"Uh... the last two," Llovesi said.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Her voice was so dramatic and singsong that Llovesi wasn't sure if she was being mocked or not. "It's not pleasant, but you'll be well-cared for here. If you want to see Lord Fyr before heading to the Corprusarium he's up above in his study. I hope you can fly. You can't get up there unless you can fly. Or have potions. Sorry."

"Come on, Llovesi." Julan muttered, taking the potions and the Dwemer object from her pack, and leaving everything else by the door.

He led her upstairs, helped her drink the potion and they floated up the fly well.

An old Dunmer man dressed in full armour was examining some shelves. He looked funny, very funny, Llovesi decided. More like a warlord than a wizard. _Concentrate._

"Divayth Fyr?"

The man looked round. "Well! What a pleasure! A visitor! An entertaining diversion!" he said.

Llovesi held out the Dwemer artefact. He stepped closer, noticing it.

"Say. That's an interesting Dwemer piece you have there. What can you tell me about it?"

"It, it's a gift. For you," Llovesi said, concentrating hard on every word.

"A gift? For me?" He clapped his hands in mock delight. "How thoughtful. And shrewd. I suppose you know I am a collector. And that such a gift is bound to please me. I congratulate you on your diplomatic skills. So, why have you tried to butter me up? Come to consult the great Divayth Fyr? You have the divine disease? Want to plunder the dungeon? Or leer at my daughters?"

"The, the divine disease?"

Divayth laughed heartily. "Why, Corprus of course! Its magical principles are elusive and miraculous, far more subtle and powerful than any conventional sorcery or enchantment. I'm persuaded that it is in some manner the curse or blessing of a God. Perhaps both a curse and a blessing. The victim, of course, cannot appreciate the marvellous nature of Corprus. It saps the mind and destroys the body. But to a wizard, it is a profound and glorious mystery, a riddle worth a long lifetime of study. And study it I have done."

"Sounds about right," Llovesi said, and dropped her hood.

"Fascinating." Divayth whispered. "May I?" He removed his gauntlets and reached for her face, gently twisting it this way and that. "How interesting."

"Not the words I would use."

"Perhaps not." He put his gauntlets back on and looked thoughtful. "But you are in no position to appreciate it. Your disease is quite advanced. But you're still alive. And holding a conversation. I'm impressed. Did you know that Corprus makes you immune to disease? Have you ever heard of the prophecies of the Nerevarine? Ashlanders say the Nerevarine will be immune to disease. I've always thought: 'maybe I have the Nerevarine down in my Corprusarium, and I don't even know it.'"

He laughed, suddenly and uproariously, making Llovesi flinch. "'The Nerevarine is a fat, disgusting Corprus monster, and mad as a marsh rat.' Wouldn't that be funny?"

"Not really," Julan said crossly from behind Llovesi.

"Look, I might be the Nerevarine." Llovesi said.

Divayth snorted. "You think you're the Nerevarine? Means nothing, of course. Corprus victims have all sorts of delusions. But... let me think..."

He checked inside a nearby lockbox, and then closed it, drumming his fingers on the lid.

"I've got a potion. In theory, it should cure Corprus. Doesn't work, though. Probably kill you. Killed all my test subjects."

He shrugged. "But you've got nothing to lose. Before I give it to you, I want you to look around below in the Corprusarium. Know what's in store if you don't take the potion. And while you're there, I want you to pick up a pair of boots from a victim, calls himself Yagrum Bagarn. My oldest patient. Handy fellow, fixes things for me. Bring the boots back, and then you can have the potion."

Llovesi shared a glance with Julan, noting how he couldn't avoid wincing as her eyes met his. "I'll do it," she said.

"Excellent!" Divayth said. "Off you go then! Find one of my daughters to show you down. Alfe!" He called the name out loudly, then gestured to Julan. "Perhaps your little friend had best stay here with me though hmm? I'm sure the inmates will leave you alone, you're practically one of them. Him? I'm not so sure…"

"Okay. See you soon, Julan."

"Be careful, Llovesi."

Divayth grasped Julan's shoulders affectionately, and Julan mouthed 'hurry', his eyes wide.

"Now, I'm sure we'll get on famously!" the old wizard continued. "Ashlander is it? I so rarely get to meet Ashlanders..."

A loud cough from the doorway interrupted them. Another Dunmer woman in bonemold armour was standing there, her arms folded. "You called, Lord Fyr?"

"Ah yes, my feisty Alfe. Show this young woman down to the Corprusarium would you?"

The woman sighed dramatically. "Come on you. Down to the dungeon with all the other monsters."

She led Llovesi by the elbow back down through the tower, and prodded her through a small wooden door.

An Argonian wearing a thick steel cuirass stepped forward into the sparse light.

"Greetings. I am Vistha-Kai, Warden of the Corprusarium. Are you a new inmate?"

"I'm not staying!" Llovesi said hastily.

"Then I shall warn you: do not harm the inmates. I will not tolerate you adding to their suffering. Indeed, they are brutal and ferocious, and they will kill you if they can. But you are their guest, and you may not harm them, or you will answer to me."

"Divayth Fyr said they wouldn't touch me!" Llovesi said in a panicky voice.

The Argonian shrugged his powerful shoulders. "That may be so. But you will not touch them, whatever happens."

He took a small key from a chain on his hip and unlocked the wooden gate behind him.

The air in Corprusarium was thick and hazy as it had been in Ilunibi, but instead of corruption it put Llovesi in mind of sickness, fear and depression. It was a sad place. A door straight ahead of her led down, so she went through it.

As Divayth had predicted, the inmates left her alone. They shuffled around, keeping themselves to themselves, sad imitations of the people they had once been. Some watched her pass, the tiniest flicker of intelligence in their dulled eyes. Most just curled up, or ripped viciously at their own skin, howling in pain. The air was filled with the sounds of their suffering and... _is that a drum?_

She rounded another corner into a large cave, stony like the rest. This one differed however, by a raised wooden platform at the back. A Dunmer was sat cross-legged playing a small guarskin drum, with a strange Dwemer contraption nearby. This person had to be Yagrum Bagarn. She had met no one else even vaguely sentient.

"Yagrum Bagarn?"

"A visitor! What brings you to visit Yagrum Bagarn, Master Crafter, and Last Living Dwarf?"

To her astonishment, the Dwemer contraption spoke. Llovesi focused and realised that only half the creature was Dwemer, the other half was, well, also Dwemer: a small old man, bloated with Corprus and with a long beard falling over his distended stomach, was being supported by what looked like a Spider Centurion. Up close the Dunmer, she realised, was female. _Probably another of Divayth Fyr's daughters_. She was so shocked she forgot to ask for the boots.

"Last Living Dwarf? You're... a Dwemer?" she asked.

"This is how I style myself. I do not know for a fact that I am the last. But in my travels thousands of years ago, I never encountered another. And since I have been here, I often ask Lord Fyr, but he says he has never heard a credible rumour of another Dwemer, on Tamriel, or in any Outer Realm."

His voice was high-pitched and jolly. Llovesi sat down on the wooden platform, staring up at him in wonder.

"But, who are you? What happened to the other Dwemer?"

He chuckled. "So you're here for a conversation? How nice. My fellow inmates are scarcely good company. And the risk of Corprus disease deters most visitors. Once I was a Master Crafter in the service of Lord Kagrenac, chief architect of the great Second Empire freeholds, and the greatest enchanter of his time. I could not match the genius of Lord Kagrenac, but what he could envision; my colleagues and I could build. All of that is gone forever. I cannot say what happened. I was not there to observe.

"I was in an Outer Realm at the time, and when I came back, my people were gone. I left Red Mountain, wandering Tamriel for years, searching our deserted colonies, looking for a survivor or an explanation. Then, a long, long time ago, I returned to Red Mountain, still looking for answers. Instead, I found Corprus disease, and I have been here ever since. I have theories, if you are interested."

"I..." Llovesi hesitated, but even in her befuddled state of mind she recognised she would never have such an opportunity again. "Go on."

"Lord Kagrenac, the foremost arcane philosopher and magecrafter of my era, devised tools to shape mythopoeic forces, intending to transcend the limits of Dwemer mortality. However, in reviewing his formulae, some logicians argued that side effects were unpredictable, and errors might be catastrophic. I think Kagrenac might have succeeded in granting our race eternal life, with unforeseen consequences - such as wholesale displacement to an Outer Realm. Or he may have erred, and utterly destroyed our race."

"Right..." It made no sense to Llovesi. Maybe it would later. If there was a later.

Yagrum Bagarn smiled, and adjusted a small lever on the side of his chair. The mechanical legs took a few steps forward.

"You have been a most attentive listener... ah?"

"Llovesi."

"Llovesi. Well, I admit I do know why you're actually here, Llovesi. You're here for the Dwemer boots. Lord Fyr mentioned he wished to collect them soon. Tell my gracious Keeper that I have done what I could. Only a Dwemer magecrafter could have done so much. But only idiots could have created these boots. It shames my race that we must be judged by the works of such lack-wit blunderers. The fundamental enchantment is flawed. Might as well start over again... if such a pair of boots could still be fashioned in these benighted latter days. But I have done my best. Take them to Lord Fyr, with my sincere apologies."

He directed his chair over to the wooden table and used the front legs to grasp a pair of boots underneath it, holding them out to Llovesi.

"Thank you," Llovesi said.

"It is no matter. Thank your for your time." The little Dwemer squinted up at her. "My eyesight nearly fails me, but if I'm not mistaken you have quite the case of Corprus my dear. Perhaps I will be seeing you sooner than I think?"

Llovesi clutched the boots. "Divayth Fyr has offered me a cure."

"Has he now? I owe my life to Lord Fyr. He took me in when I was a mad monster, out of my mind. In time, I emerged from my dementia, and now I am quite lucid most of the time, though my body is still a grotesque and useless prison. And I still have some feeble hope of a cure. Lord Fyr has tried many spells and potions. None have helped me, but neither have they harmed me. If anyone can cure this disease, Lord Fyr can. Goodbye then Llovesi, and if you meet with cultivated minds undaunted by the horrors of the Corprusarium, you might mention your recent interview with the last living dwarf?"

"I will. Goodbye Yagrum Bagarn."

He waved to her using the metal legs of his chair, then turned to the Dunmer woman.

"Now... if I could just figure a scheme of classifying manifolds for _tri-ply_-connected surfaces... or even _more_ complex surfaces..."

Llovesi made her way back through the caves, accompanied by the gentle sound of the Dunmer woman's drum.

* * *

Presently, she was standing back in Divayth Fyr's office. Julan had retreated to the corner of the room, watching Divayth Fyr with wary eyes as the wizard hummed to himself and leisurely turned the pages of an old book.

"You've got the boots? Great! I hope the potion... you know... I hope it works!" Julan said as she walked into the study.

"Julan! I met a Dwarf down there!"

"Did you? Uh... Lord Fyr, I think the sooner she gets the potion, the better!"

Divayth Fyr looked up and crossed to the lockbox he had opened earlier, withdrawing a small corked vial.

"Well? Did you get my boots? No boots, no potion..."

He dangled it in front of her tantalizingly.

"The boots first, please. And now, I'll give you the potion, on the following condition: you must drink it here, before my eyes. It should act immediately, and I need to observe you very carefully. Agreed?"

"Yes," Llovesi said, holding her hand out, her mouth dry.

"Ah, ah." Divayth Fyr uncorked the potion with a small pop. "Open your mouth, and close your eyes..."

He tipped the potion into her mouth. "Good. Now swallow..."

She did. It was bitter, thick and foul tasting and she almost gagged on it, but she forced it down.

Immediately, she felt her skin begin to crawl, as if thousands of insects were burrowing into her flesh, and a horrible ache, as if her bones were being rearranged in her body...

"Goodness... Good grief! Look! Look! It's... _working_!"

She heard a smash as the bottle was dropped on the floor and a frantic rustle of paper.

She risked opening an eye. Divayth was writing hasty notes on a sheaf of paper, circling her as he did. Julan moved into her view, a slow smile spreading over his face.

"By Mephala, Llovesi!" he said. "You look like your old self again! This is wonderful!"

"Remarkable." Divayth said, still scribbling. "Let me check your skin... your eyes... your tongue... Amazing. I think it worked. No sign of the disease at all."

Llovesi opened both eyes and looked at her arms. They were smooth again. Her skin, her own grey-green skin. No more sores, no more fleshy pink growths. She patted her body down. The dark cloak was now loose. She peeled it off in ecstasy.

Divayth was still talking: "Of course, you still have Corprus disease, just like I planned. But all your symptoms are gone. Marvellous. I'll go try it out on some of the more desperate inmates. But I'll answer any questions you have before you go."

"I, wha-? I still have Corprus?"

"Well yes, but only the positive effects. The immunity to disease, the increased strength and endurance. Who knows, maybe you're even immortal!"

He laughed. "That's what Corprus does of course, if it doesn't kill you quickly. You can understand why I see it as a cosmic joke. But the potion has removed all the negative effects, and you're no longer at risk of transmitting any disease. Quite ingenious, even if I do say so myself!"

Llovesi looked around, as if she was seeing the world for the first time. It was as if a dull fog had been lifted. Sensations were creeping back in. She could hear tiny noises she had missed before, feel cool air on her face. Divayth's study was a strange place. Books lined the shelves, rising all the way up the walls. Other exotic objects were dotted around, skulls, soul gems, jewels, and vials. Great misty purple crystals grew from the walls, she remembered seeing those, but now she noticed that they were ringing with a high-pitched noise that was strangely peaceful.

The man who had cured her stood in front of her, and she saw him properly for the first time. The armour, she recognised it now; she had seen it in a book. Daedric armour. A full suit as well. _How on_ _Nirn...?_ She looked into his face. Crowned with hair so pure white it shone like silver, it was smooth, like polished stone. His eyes were impossibly old and intelligent.

He stroked his beard and laughed again. "Welcome back to Mundus, Llovesi. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No. Thank you, Lord Fyr. For everything. I don't think I can ever repay you."

"You repaid me enough by letting me observe the potion's effects. I have to get back to work now. But do stop by and visit my daughters and I again. Let us know how the whole Nerevarine thing works out? It has been fascinating, Llovesi, Julan." He shook their hands and bid them goodbye.

Outside, Llovesi stared up at the constellations lighting the night sky. How wonderful it was to see them again! She rolled on the sand in delight, smelling the silt, the sea, and the salty smell of mashmerrow.

Julan set their packs down and swept her into his arms, holding her close.

"You have no idea how glad I am you're going to be okay," he whispered. "All that stuff about the Nerevarine, that was clever. A good way to get him to give you the potion."

Llovesi nodded. Of course, it didn't mean anything. Julan was immune to Corprus too, wasn't he? _Still... Neither blight nor age can harm him... The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies... _Could she have just fulfilled the Second Trial?

She laughed suddenly, looking up at the sky. "It's such a cliché isn't it? Tonight's Old Life. Tomorrow's New Life. A New Year. And here I am, with my life returned."

"You couldn't make it up," Julan said, his arm around her shoulder as they sat in the sand. He stroked her face and kissed her full on the lips.

Llovesi pulled her boots off and wriggled her toes in the sand. They both lay back and watched the heavens. It was a beautiful night. The sky was streaked with red and purple, like satin on dark velvet; the stars were embedded diamonds.

Llovesi lay for a long time. Listening to Julan's breathing, wondering at how it felt to be alive. Then she rolled over.

"We can't stay here all night. We should put the tent up. Julan?"

He was frowning at something.

"Julan? You look pre-occupied..."

"Hmm...? Ah... I suppose I am a little." He pushed himself up onto his elbows. "If you really want to know, I was thinking about Shani - not in that way!" he added hastily.

"What _were_ you thinking about then?"

"Everything that's happened. When I was mad at you, then you got Corprus and I thought you were going to die... It just makes me think, what if I had stayed mad at you, then something terrible had happened? Like with you and Clause... what if I had never got the chance to sort things out? I would have never forgiven myself for being such an idiot. And then, I think about Shani..."

"And you think you're being an idiot?"

"I'm not sure. But maybe I should talk to her again. Just in case."

Llovesi nodded. And, now that she came to think about it, it had been well over a month since Shani left to go hunting, promising answers on her return. She had to be back by now.

"Okay Julan, let's use our rings to teleport to your mother's place. We can pay Shani a visit in the morning."

They clasped hands and the rings glowed.

"Here we go," Julan said. "Hopefully it won't just teleport clothes and not people, like the last ring she made me."

Llovesi started to protest, but it was lost to the evening breeze as they vanished, leaving behind only the faintly disturbed sand on the shore of Tel Fyr.


	23. Lost in the Grazelands

**A/N: Bit late putting this up today! I like to try and get my chapters up in the morning, but real life got in the way somewhat today (yay house renovations!).Thanks to N4V1 for your valuable criticisms, that kind of thing is really useful and definitely something I will be taking on board. To anyone else who's wondering, yes, Julan is a companion mod by Kateri (not a character I own!) intended to bring a new perspective to the main quest, as well as bringing a few side quests (such as the one in this chapter). I wanted to include him in my fiction for two reason really, one, he's a great character who I wanted to write for and develop myself, and two, his story fits very well with the angle I wanted to take on Morrowind's story.**

* * *

_**Chapter 22: Lost in the Grazelands**_

A lone cliff racer cawed in the sky as it swooped from mountain, to beach, to sea. Llovesi looked up as it passed, but it didn't notice her stepping from the yurt as it sailed into the distance.

She emptied her pack onto the sand. There was a surprising amount to sort through. All the things she had managed to acquire: potions, scrolls, rings, amulets, assorted bits of clothing, food... all of it had somehow formed a layer of detritus at the bottom of her bag. She set about laying it out, deciding on the things she would take and the things that could stay in Julan's storage yurt, for the time being. The tent could stay, there was no point dragging that to the Ahemmusa. She would take both spears...

As she sunk her hand into the pack again, she felt a sharp pain. She'd nicked herself on an old dagger, probably the first one she'd ever bought. She flung it into the ocean, and watched it fly a good fifty feet before sinking beneath the waves. She sucked her finger thoughtfully. Amazing that Corprus had left her with this newfound strength, but a simple healing spell was still a challenge. Her cut would simply have to heal the natural way. At least she retained her talent for impressive displays of heat and flame, but her birthsign prevented her from relying on them. Besides, they still carried painful memories.

The strength was... cool, admittedly. It certainly was useful. She could carry heavier things further now, and with greater ease. She now had the strength in her arms to lift long swords. She had tried with Julan's silver longsword, swinging it about her head with one hand until her had told her she was being 'a bit terrifying'. The lack of controlled technique she had in using weapons was now substituted slightly by raw power, and she would take that 'slightly' as far as she could if it gave her an edge.

Neither did the immortality faze her. Sure, it probably wasn't even true, but she was still a Dunmer, and young. She probably had a good hundred years in her anyway. Thoughts of growing old were so far away from her concern that they were no bigger than the cliff racer sailing out to sea.

Julan joined her on the beach as she repacked her smaller satchel.

"Mother would like to speak to you," he said.

"Really? What've I done?"

"Oh, nothing. It didn't sound bad. I think she just wants your help with something. Oh, and she says it's probably a good idea to find the lost prophecies so when I've talked to Shani maybe we should get on with that."

"We'll have to go back to Caius first," Llovesi reminded him, then walked over to Mashti's yurt.

"Outlander," Mashti said coolly as Llovesi entered the yurt. For her this was practically a glowing declaration of friendship. "I wonder if you might perform a small task for me."

"What is it?"

"There are two women camped just south-east of this place. They are spies from my enemies in the Ahemmusa Camp, posing as outcasts. I want them dead."

"Er... all right," Llovesi said, nonplussed by the request and by the frankness with which Mashti had asked it.

Mashti waved her hand, dismissing Llovesi.

"What did she want?" Julan asked.

"There are two spies nearby apparently. She asked me to get rid of them."

They climbed a nearby hill, and sure enough, they could make out a campsite nearby, two robed women sitting by the fire in plain sight.

"Of all the obvious..." Llovesi said in disbelief. "Okay then, let's get this over with."

They charged the witches, who leapt up in alarm, shooting poison spells at them. _So they're Mabrigash as well_, Llovesi thought, _fantastic_.

Still, they were unarmoured, and Llovesi and Julan had the advantage of surprise. Llovesi attacked, Illkurok in her left hand and the Spirit-Spear in her right. Soon the women lay dead, their glassy eyes conveying the last surprise of their lives.

* * *

Mashti rewarded Llovesi with some homebrewed potions. "Levitation, Shadow and Detect Key, outlander. Perhaps they will be useful."

Llovesi thanked her, a nasty taste in her mouth. It had been a brutal task, and she wasn't sure how she felt about her efficient handling of it. She wondered if she missed the old Llovesi, who struggled to deal with nix-hounds and old, insane bandits. _Now I kill simply because I'm asked._ Julan was waiting for her outside, but before she left, Llovesi hesitated. What harm could asking the question do? She was certainly in Mashti's good books now.

"Mashti? Were you ever married to a man in the Ahemmusa?"

"What?" Mashti looked thunderstruck, but quickly regained her composure. "You've been speaking to Nibani Maesa? Azura's star, how is she?"

"Fine."

"Good, good. But of course it's not true what she said – I have never been married. But since I left the Urshilaku in the company of a man, I had to say I was going to marry him to preserve my reputation. You know how it is."

She shrugged, and closed her eyes, assuming a position of meditation.

Llovesi didn't know 'how it was', but after four months on Vvardenfell, she could guess. Maybe Shani would be more enlightening about Julan and Mashti's past.

* * *

"Dubnt luk like es ere."

"What?"

Julan pulled the chitin helm up irritably. "I _said_: it doesn't look like she's here..." He pulled it down again. Llovesi looked around the camp, and sure enough, there was no tell-tale glimpse of bright red hair.

"Well, let's ask someone. Look there's Rakeem."

The scout smiled as she approached. "Hello, Llovesi. Stars shine upon your visit. I hope it is for good this time."

"Rakeem, have you seen Shani?"Llovesi asked quickly.

His smile faded. "Her hunting troupe return some time ago, but she was not with them. They say they lost her somewhere in the Grazelands. I confess I worry; we cannot spare the warriors to go look for her. Speak to Gunta. She was leading the expedition and can say more. Try healer's, or trader's."

He left, and Julan pulled up his helmet worriedly. "Mamaea's is just here, let's check."

But the healer shook her head. "You must have crossed paths. She has gone to speak with Lanabi."

Sure enough, Lanabi was talking to a dark haired Dunmer in a bonemold cuirass.

"Gunta?" Llovesi asked. "We were told you might have more information about what happened to Shani?"

The woman turned to look at them and her hard expression softened slightly.

"Yes. She was a member of my expedition. I feel responsible for what happened; she was under my command. We were attacked suddenly by many kagouti in the Grazelands, and the party was scattered. When we assembled again, Shani was missing. We searched, but time drew on, so we returned here, thinking she may have come back to the camp. This was some time ago now. I fear the worst. She is very young, and not a strong fighter. The few warriors we have left must hunt and defend the camp – we can spare no one to look for her. Are you saying you would be willing? I would be in your debt."

"Yes," Llovesi said, wincing as Julan gripped her hand.

"Very well. The attack happened west of Tel Vos, near the Nerano Ancestral Tomb. One of the hunters said he thought he saw her running in the direction of the mountains, but he couldn't be sure. We searched there, and found nothing. I hope you have more luck."

Once out of the camp, Julan wrenched his helmet from his head and twisted it anxiously in his hands. "Little s'wit," he said. "Never did have any sense of direction. And she calls herself a scout! Hah. I suppose we'd better go and bring her in, even though she's probably just wandered over to Vos or something."

They walked to Tel Vos and headed west towards the mountains. The hills sloped gradually upwards, becoming rockier and the grass becoming sparser. There was a nasty drop the other side. Llovesi skidded on some loose rock, and flung out her arm to stop Julan doing the same.

"I don't see her," she said.

Julan peered down into the foyada. "She'll have broken her neck... _oh Gods..._"

"We don't know that. Let's go down."

Julan levitated them both safely to the ground, and they split up to search, Llovesi heading south and Julan walking north towards the coast. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, Llovesi felt the familiar tug in her mind as Julan contacted her telepathically.

_Llovesi?... I've found her shield. Can you come here?_

She clenched her fist and the ring pulled her through space to Julan's position. He was holding a flat, round, chitin shield.

"Look," he pointed to a nearby door set into the foyada wall. Llovesi hadn't seen it at first; it was covered in a thick overgrowth of vines and trama root. When she looked closer, she could see that the vegetation had been broken away cleanly round the door's frame. She pushed it hard with her shoulder, but it wouldn't budge.

She drew her spear and wedged it in the frame. "This is definitely not what it was meant to be used for but..." she said.

She pushed with all her strength. The rusty hinges snapped, and the door swung out instead of in, showering Julan with dust and earth.

"It's completely blocked!" Julan said, stepping back from the pile of rocks and earth that was spilling out. "We have to get through it!"

He sunk to his knees and began digging with his bare hands. Incredibly, the mound began to shift, but so too did some of the larger boulders.

"Julan, careful!" Llovesi stepped forward and grabbed the boulder making a beeline for his head, throwing it to one side. "We have to do this carefully, else we'll be buried as well!"

She bit her tongue, but it was too late to stop the last words coming out. From the look on Julan's face, he'd been thinking them too.

They stood to either side of the door and shifted rocks outwards. Julan's feverish determination made short work of the pile, and soon they had a passable gap through which they could crawl.

They had entered a glass mine. Llovesi could see the mineral glowing green in the seams of the rocky walls. All around there were signs of instability: loose soil falling from the roof, cracks along the walls and a worrying rumbling noise. In places the beams holding the ceiling up had collapsed. She lit a torch and stepped carefully over a pair of dead nix-hounds.

"We need to watch our step."

Julan nodded. "Gods this place is a mess," he said. "Why would that idiot come in here? She must have a death wish... oh why did I just say that?"

Llovesi found a note on some crates nearby. "'_For the attention of Canctunian Ponius_'..." she read aloud, "'_unfit for continued development_'... '_cave-ins_'... _tunnel collapses_'... well obviously. But he never delivered the report?"

"Llovesi?" Julan called. He was crouching by a corpse, nearly rotted away, half-buried in a wall. The dead man was clutching a piece of paper, and Llovesi carefully prised it from his fingers. Everything down to '_Make final inspection, check for signs of further instability_' had been ticked off.

"Looks like he didn't get very far," she whispered. "Come on, let's find out where Shani went, I don't think staying here is a good idea."

At first they followed the trail of animal corpses, but it seemed that Shani had started to avoid the creatures after a while, as they started meeting live kagouti and nix-hounds. They followed the sound of trickling water, reasoning that Shani probably had done too. Water normally meant exit. The tunnel they were following opened up suddenly into a low wide cave with mossy rocks. The water sound turned out to be a pool; water from the ceiling dripped into it with a gentle _plunk_ every few seconds.

Suddenly one of the mossy rocks moved, and it wasn't a mossy rock at all but a fifteen foot tall Ogrim. A very mean looking fifteen foot tall Ogrim. And it was starting to come towards them.

"Sheogorath, it's huge!" Julan yelled. "How did it even get in here?"

"I don't know," Llovesi shouted back, "just kill it!"

Arrows would be no good against the Daedra's tough hide, and misplaced spells in the cave would be disastrous, so Julan drew his sword and slashed at it. The creature howled in pain, and flailed its thick scaly arms. Llovesi drew both her spears and ran forward, impaling the Ogrim. She forced it back into the pool of water, face down, drowning it. Julan slashed at it again for good measure.

"Hang on," he said, panting, "there's a gap down there in the rocks, can you see it?"

Llovesi could, a few feet below the surface. At least it wasn't far; she wasn't a strong swimmer. She followed Julan into the pool and through the gap, feeling the water drag her billowing cloak around her body. _Divines, it's freezing_. Then she surfaced the other side, feeling like she'd been kicked in the chest.

"Shani! Shani, can you hear me!" Julan was gone, splashing wildly from the pool. Running towards the small, forlorn figure on the ground.

Shani had collapsed face down. Her armour was torn, she'd lost a boot and her hair was matted with blood. Julan, wide-eyed and trembling, his hair slicked back with algal water, rolled her over gently and placed his ear to her chest.

"She's-she's alive, but she's unconscious. How long has she been here?"

It could have been days. A deathly pallor had replaced Shani's normally healthy glow, her skin looked clammy and thin. Julan brushed the hair back from her forehead.

"We have to give her something! Do you have any healing potions? Even a potion to restore fatigue?"

_Of course! _Llovesi snapped out of her reverie and rummaged through her satchel frantically. It seemed everything was harder to find when you needed it most, and the sight of Shani looking so lifeless when she was normally so vivacious had shocked her. She passed Julan the vial with numb fingers.

"Right, I'll try and get her to drink it." He uncorked the potion and tipped it into her mouth, supporting her head. "Sheogorath, this is all my fault! Why didn't I come earlier? I'm such an idiot!"

Shani spluttered suddenly, her eyes shooting open. She rolled to one side and leant on her elbow, coughing. Julan dropped her as if his hands had been burnt and moved back to Llovesi's side. Shani peered up at them both though bleary eyes.

"Uhhh... Llovesi? Julan? You... you came for me!"

She sat up gingerly. "Thank you for the potion. I... I can feel my strength returning. I lost track of time in here, but I've eaten nothing but mushrooms for days, I think."

Llovesi knelt down in front of her. "Shani, what are you doing in here?"

Shani coughed. "Oh, you know," she said casually, "I just like the scenery. _I got trapped in here! What do you THINK?"_ she shouted, then lapsed into another coughing fit.

"Calm down, calm down," Llovesi said hastily, "I mean, what happened to you?"

"There was a pack of kagouti. I got separated from the troupe. I ran up onto the hills to get a better shot with my bow, but then one cornered me. I kept backing up trying to shoot it... then I stumbled over the edge into the Foyada. I was hurt from the fall, I couldn't climb my way back over the mountains. Then the Blight came down and there were so many creatures. I needed to find shelter fast."

"So you came into the mine," Llovesi said, piecing it all together, "and the entrance collapsed behind you."

Shani nodded weakly. "Right. And there were monsters in here too! I just ran and ran, trying to find another exit. But then there was the Ogrim! I guess you killed it…but I was just too weak. I dived past it into the water and found this cave. I was better off in here, there was a little light, water and... ugh... mushrooms."

"You didn't try to escape?" Llovesi asked.

"Of course I did!" Shani snapped. "You try sneaking past an Ogrim! And a hoard of cave creatures, when you're hurt and exhausted. And even if I did get past them, the entrance was _blocked_. What was I supposed to do, _dig_? IDIOT!" She coughed hard.

"Okay, calm down," Llovesi said, patting her gently on the back, guessing that her outbursts were down to stress over any real animosity. Shani sniffled into Llovesi's chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I just... didn't think anyone would come for me. I had given up hope. I thought I was going to die." She sniffed back tears again. "And then no one would ever find my body and give me a proper burial with my ancestors so even my spirit would be trapped here forever alone never able to get out and-"

"It's okay," Llovesi said, hugging her, "you're going to be fine. We'll get you out of here."

"Thank you," Shani said, pulling away and rising shakily to her feet. "Thank you very much... and thank you, Julan. Of all people, I never would have expected _you_ to come for me. You're being very quiet."

He was. Llovesi got to her feet as well and cast a sidelong glance at him. He was staring at Shani, his mouth slightly open.

Shani went on: "It's not like you. When I was explaining what had happened I kept expecting you to interrupt and call me 'a little s'wit', but you didn't. Are you feeling all right?" She swayed slightly.

He didn't reply. Llovesi caught Shani by the elbow, supporting her. "Are you okay? Can you walk? The entrance is clear, we should get you home."

"Yes, I-" Shani froze. "What was that? I thought I heard-"

There was a loud grinding sound, like stone on stone.

Llovesi turned round, only to see the rock ceiling shift dramatically, as if a great force from above were pushing it towards them. There was a loud rumble, and rock fell, splashing loudly into the water. Cutting off their escape.


	24. Forgiveness

**A/N: Thanks again to N4V1 for your concrit of the last chapter! Honestly, it's pointing out flaws with the story like this that help me to grow as a writer, so if anyone does have any problems, don't be shy of letting me know!**

* * *

_**Chapter 23: Forgiveness**_

The dust had settled. Shani screamed, maybe in fear or frustration, and collapsed back to the floor.

"Sheogorath!" Julan shouted, the first sound he had made since Shani had awoken.

Shani was in tears. "Now we're all going to be stuck here! Stuck here forever-"

"I can teleport-" Julan interrupted.

"-Llovesi, with that _selfish n'wah_ who'll just insult me until I smash my head in with a rock to escape-" Shani continued, trampling over Julan's attempt to speak.

"-HEY, WAIT A SECOND!" Julan shouted, his eyes widening as the impact of what Shani had said sunk in.

"Oh, don't start on me again Julan!" Shani shouted back. "I don't know why you're here, if you're only going to yell at me! Why _are_ you here, Julan? I bet you didn't even want to come and find me. This was probably all Llovesi's idea! You don't care if I live or die anymore, do you? And now I bet you're wishing I was dead, just to _shut me up_!"

"WHAT? You little s'wit!"

Llovesi, who had been staring between the two in disbelief, decided it was time to try and step in.

"Look, this isn't really getting us anywhere..."

Shani turned to her in exasperation. "Well, I don't know why he's here! He hasn't even asked me how I'm feeling; he's hardly spoken to me. But I suppose he promised his _darling_ mother that he wouldn't have anything to do with me, and he has to what _she _wants, doesn't he? He always does everything _she_ tells him, because it makes his life so much easier that way! He never has to _think_ at all!"

"That is _not_ true!" Julan shouted, and Shani turned back to glare at him again. "You think I left you because she told me to? I did it for your sake, you're just too blind to see that!"

There was a heavy silence.

Shani broke it, speaking quietly. "No you didn't. You left me because you were getting bored, and your mother gave you an easy way out. I know that. But I hate that you're too much of a coward to admit it, so you pretend that you did it for the sake of your mission, or some other load of noble guardung. You know I'm telling the truth – I can see it in your face. I've known you all your life Julan, you can't lie to me. You never could."

She turned away, dejected, leaving Julan gaping like a slaughterfish on land.

"Okay," Llovesi stepped forward, trying to break the tension. "Shall we plan how we're going to get out of here now?"

Shani shrugged. "Yes, let's. Maybe if we-"

"You. Little. S'wit." Julan stepped forward, his face like thunder and his voice full of bitten-back anger.

"You think you know everything about me, don't you? But from what you've been saying, you don't know me at all. Maybe you're right about some things. Maybe I was thinking of breaking up with you, even before mother told me to. But if you really believe that I hate you, and wouldn't come to find you if you were lost... DO KNOW HOW WORRIED I WAS ABOUT YOU?" he yelled, his anger breaking free, and Shani's eyes welled up with tears again.

"I thought you might be _dead_! Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again! You're damn right I've known you all my life, you're like a sister to me, and I love you more than you will ever get into your stupid little head! So don't you _ever_ start telling me that I'd rather you were dead!" He stopped shouting abruptly, breathing hard.

Shani's tears brimmed over, and she started sobbing messily. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I was just angry! I didn't mean - you're my best friend! I've been so lonely without you to talk to. Just promise me you won't be so horrible to me anymore!" She hid her face in her hands.

"I won't," Julan said. "I'm so sorry, Shani. You know I'd always come to find you."

He opened his arms and she buried herself in them. They hugged briefly, then pulled away, Shani drying her eyes on her sleeve.

"Well, this is great," Llovesi said, "but don't you think we should leave before any more of this place collapses?"

"Yes!" Shani said, laughing shakily. "But how?"

"As I was going to say," Julan said, "I'll teleport us out of here. I set a Recall point outside."

"Good thinking!" Llovesi said, genuinely impressed.

Julan held his hands out. "Right, just hold on."

"I hate teleporting-" Shani began.

And then they were outside in the bright light of day.

"-it always makes me feel sick!" She wrenched her hand from Julan's and retched heavily, before falling back into Julan's arms.

"Come on," Julan said to Llovesi, "we should get this one home before she collapses, and I have to actually carry her. Although that would be like old times at the Varo Tradehouse."

They took an arm each, and walked north, circling round the mountains, past Julan's camp and into the Ahemmusa Camp. Ashlanders looked up in astonishment as they entered.

"Shani! You found Shani!"

Shani's feet were almost dragging against the floor. "Please, just take me to Mamaea... I think I'm about to fall over."

Llovesi pulled back the yurt's entrance, and Julan carried Shani in, laying her on a bedroll.

"Shani!" Mamaea exclaimed, leaving her pestle and mortar and dashing to her side. She looked up at Llovesi and Julan. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of her. Thank you for bringing her back to us."

"Thank you," Shani said weakly from the floor, "I'll be alright now. I just need to eat and rest. Come and see me when I'm feeling better, won't you?"

They left the yurt. "Well, I'm glad that's over," Julan said. "And I'm glad that we're friends again, even though it seems incredible after all this time. Maybe we've both grown-"

He stopped. A few Ashlanders were standing outside curiously, watching them.

"Julan," one said. "This is a good thing you have done. We are grateful. But this doesn't change anything where Ahmabi is concerned. So..." He gestured out of the camp.

Julan bowed his head forlornly.

"Wait!" A woman pushed through the small group to stand before them. She was wearing a shabby purple robe and an extravagant feather headdress. She looked a bit wild, even by Ashlander standards.

"Stranger, Julan, I have seen you in my dreams and visions!" she intoned dramatically. The other Ashlanders exchanged wary looks and drifted off, one by one. Julan groaned.

"Er, what dreams and visions?" Llovesi asked.

"The past seven nights, I have had dreams of a White Guar. I know this to be an animal sent by the Gods to help our tribe. We have been suffering greatly from disease, and none of my magic will cure the ailment. In my vision, I saw it where the path was forked, where the rocks grow from the earth like fingers on a hand. Find this White Guar for us, stranger. Let it lead you to a new hope for my people."

Then, as suddenly as she had come, she walked away.

"Not this again!" Julan said.

"What?"

"That woman is crazy," he continued as they left the camp, "last year it was a blue shalk, before that it was pink cliff racers. She had half the tribe chasing imaginary animals until we were the laughing stock of the Grazelands!"

Llovesi stifled a giggle, knowing that they were still in earshot of the camp.

"So it's not worth checking out then?"

Julan shrugged. "I know where the formation she's talking about is, so if you want to, it will take us all of five minutes."

Llovesi glanced at the sky. They weren't going to make Balmora tonight anyway. What was an extra day when they'd already been gone for over a week?

"Sure, why not."

They walked through the growing twilight, Julan leading the way.

"There it is," Julan said after a while, "now I don't see any-" his breath caught in his throat suddenly.

There was a white tail sticking out from behind the pillars of stone. A white tail, attached to a white guar.

Julan whistled. "I'll have to start looking out for those pink cliffracers now!"

As if it had seen them, the guar immediately turned and waddled towards the hills.

"Come on!" Llovesi said, "let's follow it!"

It walked slowly, not seeming aware of their company. Then it stopped in front of a pile of grassy rocks, and nuzzled Llovesi gently.

"Look," Julan said quietly.

Suddenly, as if they were seeing another place and time, there was a corpse of a woman, dressed in blue, lying serenely on the ground. Then, the vision faded, and a skeleton lay in her place.

"Did you see that?" Llovesi asked, wondering if the strange sight had been meant for both of them.

"Azura's visions." Julan said solemnly. He reached down and into the skeleton's robe and pulled forth an amulet. "We should get this back to Urshamusa, it's probably what she's been looking for."

* * *

The healer received them gladly, waiting on the outskirts of the camp.

"I have seen your journey in a vision. I know what the White Guar led you to, and I know who she was. In my vision, I saw you were led to the corpse of Ashamanu. She was a healer many, many years ago. She gave her own life to save the lives of others. It is said that she will give her life again and again, so that others may live through her sacrifice. You have witnessed a miracle, my children; you now hold the Amulet of Ashamanu."

Julan handed it to her wordlessly.

"Thank you, child. This amulet will be the salvation of my people. Take this in return. It is a shield of legend among my people, the Shield of the Undaunted. Use it, and you will feel the strength return to weary limbs. Travel well, friends."

Julan felt the hide shield in wonder. "It carries a enchantment to restore fatigue," he said. "If only Shani had had this. So, uh, what did you think of her?"

"Who, the old woman?"

"No, no, Shani. You've met her now. I'd like it if you two were friends... you're not jealous of her are you?"

"Jealous?" Llovesi was thrown. She stopped walking and turned to look at Julan. "I don't know. Maybe a little. You two have a lot of history together, and she's very pretty... but she's nice. Funny. I could see myself being friends with her."

Julan squeezed her hand. "You know I only think of her as a sister. I care a lot for her, but no more. Everything else is in the past. My past is important to me, but so is my future, and I hope you'll be part of that." He sighed, and turned his gaze towards the emerging stars.

"Shani never really understood me, or what I'm trying to do. She wanted me to marry her, settle down and be a hunter or a herder. I don't want that. I want to make a difference and to help my people... somehow."

Llovesi nodded, remembering how she had felt when she joined the Imperial Cult, how she felt now they were following the Nerevarine prophecies..

Julan went on. "You understand that, I think. Whether you believe in my mission or not doesn't really matter, you believe in me, and that's what counts. I'm stronger when you're with me. I hope I can make you stronger too."

They were just outside Kaushibael Camp. Llovesi turned to Julan, pleasantly stunned by what he had said. She looked at his face, all serious, proud and earnest, and couldn't think what to say. So she swept him into her arms and kissed him.

"Isn't that normally meant to be the other way around?" Julan asked, slightly breathlessly.

Llovesi laughed and set him down. "If it bothers you..." she said teasingly.

"No, I was kidding." Julan smiled, then sighed, and sat by the campfire on the beach, warming his hands. Llovesi joined him.

"Look at the stars," he said, lying back, "they make you feel very small, don't they? Are they Gods, do you think? How else could they have such an influence on our lives? Llovesi, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course."

"Are you a religious person? I mean, I know you're a member of the Imperial Cult, but maybe you just like the services. Do you really believe in all that stuff?"

Llovesi was silent as she thought. Finally she spoke. "Yes, I do. I'm by no means devout but I was brought up with the Nine Divines, and I've always believed that they are watching over us. And when I've been really low, when the world has seemed too awful, I've prayed to them. I just, I just need to think there's something out there. I did a lot of praying in prison, but my prayers were never answered. I started to wonder if I deserved the Gods' care. But now I think that they watch over us all, whoever we are."

Julan nodded next to her. "I see. That makes sense. My people worship the Good Daedra of course. And our ancestors, although, well, I don't have any myself. But I know that Azura protects me. At least, that's what Mother says. But, I need to have faith. It's funny; I used to think that anyone who didn't share the same beliefs as me was wrong and, well, a bad person. But now I've met so many people who believe all kinds of different things. And lots of them are good people. Like that priestess, Mehra Milo, or Divayth Fyr... and you."

"Me?"

Julan smiled. "Yes, you. You may not be perfect, but I know you're a good person. You must be, to put up with me for so long! I never would have come this far if you hadn't helped me, I'd probably be dead somewhere."

"Julan, you've saved my skin plenty of times. I never thanked you properly for all that you did over the past few weeks. I guess I didn't know how. But I was aware of most of it and... I think you saved my life more than Divayth Fyr did. And don't think I'm putting up with you either! I enjoy your company."

He grinned. "Well, thank you. I'm glad. I just want you to know... I respect you a lot and, uh, I don't generally respect many people. I mean: it helps that you're so amazing, but I'd want to travel with you anyway! Oh that reminds me!" He patted down his cuirass and withdrew a large stone on a chain. "I wanted to give you something, so I had Mother enchant this for you yesterday. It's not much, but maybe you'll find it useful."

He rolled over onto his elbow and placed it in her hands. It glowed softly in the light of the campfire, and Llovesi lifted it carefully and placed it round her neck with her other amulets.

"Thank you, Julan," she said softly. "No one's ever given me such a lovely gift, or complimented me so much."

He smiled back, shadows dancing on his face. "Well, I mean it. And I may appear to be the model of self-control-"

Llovesi supressed a snort.

"-stop sniggering!" He walked his fingers over to her arm and drew them softly down to her hand. "I'll have you know it's only my iron willpower preventing me from jumping on you and tearing all your... uh I'm getting quite distracted here, so I'd better stop."

"You don't have to," Llovesi said quickly, her breath hitching in her throat.

"Really." He shifted in the sand so that his face was over hers, his dark hair tickling her ear. "I don't think so. I'm not one to talk about things like that."

He dropped closer. "I prefer doing them. And right now I can't talk to you about anything without thinking about what I'd like to do to you..."

His lips were inches from hers as he whispered: "So, I think I'd really better stop... unless..."

Llovesi pushed herself up to meet his lips, kissing him hard and sliding her hand up the back of his cuirass and under his shirt.

"Unless what?" she whispered.

"Ah, your hands are cold! Oh... mmm..."

He dropped his hands to her face, and they rolled in the sand, kissing each other like they'd done before on many a quiet night beneath the stars, but somehow it felt new. Wilder. Llovesi unlaced Julan's cuirass with trembling fingers, he slid her boots off and ran his hands up her legs.

Her mind was on fire, and her body too. Everything was warm to Julan's touch. She ran her hands, her mouth, over his body. Julan's hair, Julan's face, Julan's torso, everything. She wanted to take him all, to give herself to him in return.

"Mmm..." Julan moaned then pulled away suddenly.

"What is it?"

"We can't... here. What if my mother walks out? Besides, it's Morning Star and this sand," he grinned cheekily, "get's _everywhere_."

"You're an Ashlander, I thought you'd be used to that!"

"We're not animals! Well, apart from in..." He let the sentence trail off and pulled on her hand. "Come on, my yurt, now!"

They ran barefoot, skidding on the sand and laughing and pulling on each other clothes. Then they tumbled into Julan's yurt and each other's arms.

"So, what were you saying about being an animal?" Llovesi asked.

Julan grinned, his eyes bright in the gloom, and lowered himself towards her. "Let me show you," he whispered.

* * *

**A/N: Don't normally do two author notes in a chapter, but I wanted to admit that I was (and still am) a little unsure of this chapter. I try not to write chapters that are skewed toward dialogue over action, but I felt that this chapter was important to the emotional development of both main characters. Therefore I'd appreciate feedback on the dialogue, but also on the final scene as it's my first time writing this sort of material. Thanks!**


	25. Best Laid Plans

**A/N: N4V1, you are rapidly becoming my favourite person! Thanks again for the great comments, and you are right - that section of dialogue at the beginning is majorly skew-whiff, I'll sort it out! If anyone else is reading and wants to comment, don't be shy - I love getting feedback of any kind!**

* * *

_**Chapter 24: Best Laid Plans**_

A rare instance of winter sunshine illuminated the sandstone buildings of Balmora as Llovesi and Julan walked across the river from the Mages Guild.

People were in the streets, but they were walking quickly, avoiding eye-contact. The oppressive atmosphere that was to be found in towns and cities these days had worsened, as if a great black fog had descended from the hills, despite the bright weather.

Caius's street was strangely busy as well. There was a cart outside his house, and a bored-looking Nord teenager was loading it with bags from a small pile of luggage outside Caius's front door.

"What's going on?" Llovesi asked. "Where's Caius?"

"Right here, Llovesi." Caius had appeared in the doorway. He was carrying another bag and dressed in a travelling cloak. He passed the bag to the Nord and motioned her and Julan inside.

The room was tidy, incredibly. The bed had been made, the floor was clear of books but it looked bare and sparse without the normal layer of rubbish. Even the table was clear of quills and papers; all that sat there now was a single, forlorn, wrapped packaged.

Caius clasped Llovesi's shoulders briefly, the most affection he had ever displayed.

"I'm very happy you've been cured, Llovesi. Unfortunately, I've had a bit of bad news. I've been recalled to the Imperial City. You'll be promoted to Operative, and will head the Blades here in Vvardenfell until I return. I'll just give you your final orders before I go.

"Continue pursuing the Nerevarine prophecies, as the Emperor commands. First, go back to Vivec and get Mehra Milo to help you find the lost prophecies. She's being watched; if something has gone wrong, find her private quarters; she'll leave you a message there under the code word 'amaya', as was agreed. Then take the lost prophecies to Nibani Maesa. From that point, you'll have to follow her directions, and follow the prophecies. Good luck."

He turned to leave.

"Wait, what do you mean you've been recalled?" Llovesi asked weakly.

Caius shrugged. "Internal politics. Some concern about my sugar. I thought about refusing the recall. But they have members of my family back in the capital. I'm afraid it may have something to do with the problems with the succession. As the Emperor's health declines, factions are manoeuvring for advantage. I may be gone a while - that's why you're promoted to Operative."

"What does that mean?"

"It makes you the ranking Blades agent here in Vvardenfell district. As far as I know. There may be other Blades agents here I don't know about. It wouldn't surprise me. I may be gone a while, and you'll have expenses. Here's some gold. And you can use the house until I return; I've paid the rent until the end of the year. And I won't be needing these blacks or the ring while I'm in Cyrodiil. Maybe they'll come in handy. Take good care of them."

He passed her the package from the table, along with a purse of septims. Llovesi accepted them, still slightly dazed.

"So, apart from my orders, do I have to do anything else?"

He shook his head. "There's nothing to it. Each agent has his own assignment, and reports directly to Cyrodiil. You're promoted to Operative mostly to preserve your independence. You're no fool. The days of the Empire are almost over. When the Emperor dies, nine hells're going to break loose. Forget about the Imperial City. Think locally. Worry about the Sixth House and Dagoth Ur. And squabbles between the Great Houses and the colonists. The rest of the political nonsense doesn't amount to a plate of scuttle."

"Okay." Llovesi looked at the balding Imperial with a touch of sadness. He had been gruff, sarcastic even, but he seemed to have a reassuring knowledge of what to do and how to do it. She was on her own now, save for Julan. She held her hand out. Caius shook it briskly.

"Caius," Llovesi started, meaning to say 'goodbye', or 'thank you'. But it caught in her throat and she changed tack.

"I know I'm the Emperor's pocket-Nerevarine. I know he wants me to fulfil these prophecies for the good of the Empire. I'm not saying I won't. But what I will do will be because I want to, because I'm curious, because I want to help people. Because if I can make a difference..." she trailed off and shrugged. "Hasphat told me that you're fed up with heroes. I'm not saying I'm a hero, but I'm saying I'll try to change your mind."

Caius gave her a long look. "It seems you have been paying attention," he said after a while. "Good. Will you be the Nerevarine? I don't know. It sounded stupid to me. It still sounds like hokey superstition. But it does seem... spooky. Is this how history works? Who knows. Who knows."

He opened the door. "Good luck again, Llovesi. You'll need it, but I have faith in you." Then, with a nod to Julan, he was gone.

Julan strolled around the room, touching the walls. "So he's really gone? And we get to use his house now? His smelly, dirt-filled hovel? How nice." He sat on the bed with a thud. "All that stuff about you being the Nerevarine..."

"Just keeping up appearances," Llovesi said smoothly, with a slight pang of guilt. It wasn't exactly a lie, was it? She'd have to do the same for her reports to the Emperor. _The Emperor_. She sat down next to Julan.

"I can't believe he wants me to head the Blades," she said.

Julan leant back. "You know, I'm not even annoyed. I thought I would be but..." He grinned at her. "It's kind of attractive, you being a top super-secret spy. Plus now we get to decide what the Emperor knows, and what he doesn't!"

Llovesi ignored him. "Don't get too comfortable," she said, "we'd better get over to Vivec and find Mehra Milo... before someone else does."

* * *

The Library of Vivec was nearly empty, and none of the robed priests walking around were Mehra Milo.

"Doesn't look like she's here," Julan whispered.

"Well, we can't really ask anyone in here, can we? Let's try and find her quarters," Llovesi whispered back, fearful of the Ordinators' suspicious glances.

Outside they were walking down the corridor, searching fruitlessly, when they bumped into a green-robed Dunmer.

"Sera, can you tell us where to find Mehra Milo's quarters?" Julan asked quickly while Llovesi glared at him.

"Certainly," the man bowed, "she lives opposite the Canon Offices, up those stairs and to the left. If you see her, would you mind asking why she hasn't been into work for the past two days? I would, but the cataloguing won't complete itself..." he swept past them and entered the Library.

"What?" Julan whispered in response to Llovesi's glare, "it worked, didn't it? Come on..."

They found the door, a plaque bearing Mehra's name upon it, but it was locked.

"Oh, here," Julan placed his hand on the handle and muttered a spell. The lock clicked open. Checking that the corridor was still empty, they slipped inside the room.

It was small and neatly kept. Llovesi noticed a note on the dresser next to a few potions and read it aloud:

"_Amaya,_

_Sorry I missed you. I had to run some old documents over to the Inquisitor at the Ministry of Truth, and I'm likely to be tied up there for a while. Why don't you meet me there as soon as you can? Then we can leave together as soon as I'm done. And Amaya, don't forget to bring me the two Divine Intervention scrolls you borrowed. Or, if you used them, buy a couple for me. I think I'm going to need them soon. Janand Maulinie at the Mages Guild in the Foreign Quarter keeps them in stock._

_Alvela Saram is the guard at the entrance; just tell her you're looking for me, and she'll let you in._

_You faithful friend,_

_Mehra_

_PS: I left a couple of levitate potions here for you, just in case. I couldn't remember if you knew the spell or not, so I drew a couple from stock._"

Llovesi put the note down, her heart thumping.

Julan looked pale. "They've got her? They've got Mehra Milo?"

"It sounds that way, yes." Llovesi looked at the letter again. The whole thing was quiet, coded urgency. She could almost picture Mehra frantically writing, while Ordinators pounded on the door.

"This is horrible," Julan said. "Do you know what they do to people in the Ministry of Truth? I don't, but I've heard no one ever comes out again."

"Well, we're going to change that," Llovesi said with determination.

She checked her pack. She had a few Divine Intervention scrolls, probably from the Cult. _Thank the Nine._ She wanted to get to the Ministry of Truth as soon as possible.

They left the room and Julan locked it behind them again, then they hurried back through the Hall of Wisdom, trying not to look too suspicious. Outside, they waited for the Ordinator patrols to pass then levitated up to the great floating rock that was the Ministry of Truth. Llovesi didn't know much about it, other than the brief amount she'd read, months ago. Apparently it was actually a moonlet, held in stasis above the city by Vivec himself. Oh, and it also served as a highly secure prison for heretics. _Or maybe just anyone the Ordinators disagree with_, Llovesi thought grimly as they landed near an Ordinator on the wooden platform that ran round the rock.

The woman stepped away from the door she was guarding.

"I'm sorry," she said briskly, "No pilgrims allowed in the Ministry. I'll have to ask you to leave. But..." she hesitated, "you're not here to visit anyone, are you?"

"I'm Llovesi. We're here for Mehra Milo," Llovesi said quickly.

"Mehra said you would come." Alvela Saram pulled a key from a chain around her neck and handed it to Llovesi. "I'll say you subdued me with magic and stole my key. It opens all three exterior doors – the upper back door is best. You'll need other keys for other doors inside. Search for the keys in desks; no one carries keys while on duty. Mehra is in the Prison Keep in the cell on the far right, at the bottom. She said you'd bring scrolls to get out." She paused. "Listen, some of us are sympathetic to the Dissident priests, but kill an Ordinator, and you'll lose that sympathy. Now get going."

Llovesi followed Julan round the rickety walkway and tried not to look down. It was a very strange feeling to be so high above Vivec, and the wooden planks were fairly worn, which didn't help her unease.

The door Alvela had recommended was right at the end of the walkway. Llovesi slipped the key into the lock and they went inside.

Julan drew his sword gleefully. "What?" he asked, when Llovesi gave him a pointed look. "I've been waiting my whole life for a good excuse to kill Ordinators! You're not planning on sneaking are you? That would be no fun at all. If they attack first, they're fair game!"

"We can't, Julan! Weren't you listening to Alvela? Look, just stay here, I'm going to check it out."

Julan grumbled but agreed, and slunk back into the gloom by the door. Llovesi drew the potion of shadow that Mashti had given her for killing the witches and drunk half of it. Invisible, she tiptoed down a carved rock tunnel. Even though she couldn't be seen, it wouldn't do to make a noise and give herself away. She emerged into another tunnel with a door at the end. 'Prison Keep' was engraved on a plaque next to it.

Thanking the Divines for her luck, Llovesi tried the handle. Locked. She gulped a mouthful more potion, then froze. Footsteps. Boots on stone. An Ordinator walking towards her. Llovesi was convinced her loudly beating heart would give her away, but the guard passed her without a second glance.

When the footsteps echoed back down the tunnel, Llovesi took the potion of detect key from her satchel. Mashti's potions had turned out to be even more useful than the mabrigash had probably thought. A small glowing aura shone through the floor, roughly opposite where they had come in.

Drinking the last of the invisibility potion, Llovesi made her way back down, as quickly and silently as she could.

She ducked into the shadows near Julan. "I found the Prison Keep," she whispered, "but it's locked. I know where the key is, but how-"

"Guards! Intruders!" The woman's shout echoed down the tunnel. It was over. An Ordinator had seen them in the shadows. She raised her mace high, but Julan was faster. He hit the Ordinator round the head with the flat of his sword. There was a loud clang, and the woman dropped to the floor.

"Dead?" Llovesi asked, terrified.

"I think I just knocked her out. We have to move, someone will have heard that!"

Llovesi looked at the woman lying sprawled in front of them and the seeds of an idea were planted in her mind.

"Quick, let's get her down this tunnel!"

They pulled her round the corner, out of sight, and Llovesi took her own cloak off, then began stripping the woman's golden armour.

"What are you doing?" Julan whispered incredulously. "I don't think this is the time for robbery!"

"I'm improvising. Help me get this armour on, will you? There're so many buckles..."

They worked quickly, and Llovesi placed the heavy golden helmet over her head, blinking sweat from her eyes. _I really hope this works_.

"Right, I'm going to explain very quickly, because I think we only have another minute to spare..." she began.

* * *

"Do you have to hold so tightly? It's really uncomfortable..."

"Shh!"

Llovesi marched Julan back round the corner, his hands behind his back.

The wooden door in front of them slammed open and an Ordinator was standing there suspiciously. At least, she presumed he was, for she couldn't see his face. And for the plan to work she was relying on the fact that he couldn't see hers.

"Myrano? I heard shouting..."

"Yes," she replied, trying to make her voice as raspy as possible to approximate the Vvardenfell accent, "I apprehended this intruder breaking in. I think he has something to do with the Milo woman. I need the key to the Prison Keep." She shook Julan for effect, and waited, sweating, for the man's response.

"That is a very curious tale indeed. I've never heard of such a thing. Breaking in... But go ahead, as long as you're here. I'll give you my key, but you'll need to get the cell key from the desk in the prison. Take him through, then come back and we'll process his paperwork."

"Thank you."

He passed her the key and turned to Julan. "Now you'll learn what we do to Dissidents, heretic. Take him away."

Julan waited until they were safely round the corner, then burst out into an excited whisper. "I can't believe that worked! You've gotten much better at acting!"

"Yeah, well, we're not through yet. I've got to convince someone else to give me a key now." Llovesi was worried; she had underestimated the amount of security they would encounter. And her disguise wasn't fool proof – she didn't know anyone's names, or the normal procedures. They were scraping by on luck.

She unlocked the door with a shaking hand and thrust Julan into the room in front of her. Then she stopped a moment out of shock. It was a huge cavern: prison cells with solid wooden doors lining the walls up and down. Prisoners in shackles walked around a fire pit at the bottom of the cavern, only accessible by another rickety walkway, patrolled by Ordinators. So many Ordinators. She located Mehra's cell at the bottom, far right, and resolved herself.

A guard by the desk stepped forward. "What is going on?" he asked gruffly.

Llovesi repeated the story she had told the other guard, praying her voice didn't falter.

The guard nodded. "I understand. But sister, remind me of you name, for it escapes me momentarily."

Llovesi's heart nearly stopped. "I'm..."

She couldn't remember the name of the guard she was impersonating.

"I'm Alvela Saram. Coming down with a touch of swamp fever I fear." She coughed for effect, but her heart was sinking. They were found out, they had to be.

The guard frowned. "Aren't you supposed to be on duty outside? This is against procedures. And you know it. Go ahead. The key is in the desk. But I have to report this. Immediately."

She bowed her head, too afraid to speak again, and rifled in the drawer of the desk and withdrew a single key. Could all the cells share a key? Was it that simple?

She turned to go down the walkway, when she felt a pair of hands lift the helmet from her head.

"You are not Alvela Saram. Guards, intruders!"

And then everything happened very quickly.

She pushed the helmet at the guard and he stumbled back in surprise, hitting the desk. Then she shouted: "Julan, run!"

They vaulted the rope railing to the next level of the walkway and rolled. But Ordinators were running from every direction, weapons raised high.

"This way!"

They jumped again, ducked the grasping hands of a nearby guard, turned the corner and sprinted.

Llovesi was dimly aware of the prisoners at the bottom looking up in wonder. Everything was a blur, the rocky walls, the torches, all whizzed by. A flash of golden armour in front. She kicked out, heard the guard stumble and moved on. Then someone's hands were grasping at her ankles, but Julan was there again, and he grabbed her hand, pulling her onwards.

They were close to the bottom now, so they both jumped, landing amongst the frightened and confused prisoners. They sprinted to Mehra's cell, and Llovesi fumbled the key, her heart threatening to leap out of her throat. She fitted it to the lock finally and twisted.

She turned to look at the cavern as they went inside. Amazingly, the prisoners outside were doing their best to get in the way of the Ordinators.

"Move, churl!" one snarled, lashing out with his mace.

"Llovesi, go!"

Julan pulled her inside the cell, and turned back to the door, locking it quickly with a spell.

"Llovesi!" It was Mehra, still in her blue robe, her face creased with worry but looking no worse for the wear.

"Do you have the Divine Intervention scrolls? I have an escape plan."

Llovesi searched her bag, finding the correct scrolls.

"Quickly, Llovesi, I don't know how long this will hold them!" Julan shouted from the door. As if to prove his point, the spikes of a mace thudded through the door suddenly. Julan jumped back. The shouts outside grew louder and more frenzied.

Mehra took a scroll from Llovesi with her shackled hands, speaking rapidly. "I'll need one Divine Intervention scroll myself for my escape plan. Getting out will be a lot faster and safer for you if you have one, but if you haven't got one for yourself, maybe you can find some other way out. Now, listen. Here's my plan. I'll meet you at the secret Dissident priests monastery at Holamayan. For safety, we'll travel separately..."

The door was starting to splinter and break.

"When you get out of here, look for a woman named Blatta Hateria on the East Docks of Ebonheart. Tell her I sent you, and that you want to 'go fishing.' She'll bring you to Holamayan by boat. I'll meet you there, and we'll get the lost prophecies from Gilvas Barelo, the leader of the Dissident priests. And magic conceals the Holamayan entrance - speak to Vevrana Aryon, a monk at the dock at Holamayan, about the hidden entrance."

She read the incantation on the scroll and disappeared.

Julan backed over to Llovesi, who lifted her Divine Intervention Amulet from inside the Indoril cuirass and reached for his hand.

Then the door imploded in a shower of splinters. An Ordinator stepped forward grimly. "You will die now, n'wah scum."

Llovesi squeezed her amulet as he swung his mace and they disappeared, the weapon sailing through thin air.

* * *

They materialised outside the Imperial Cult in Ebonheart, breathing hard.

"That was way too close for comfort," Julan said, leaning against a nearby wall for support.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just lost my head slightly." Llovesi wrenched the Indoril armour off, shaking, relieved to be wearing only her lightweight leathers again.

"We should get moving," she said, once she'd fastened her cloak, the Ordinator's armour hidden in a bush. "News about what happened is bound to get out, although I wouldn't be surprised if it gets hushed up. They'll be looking for us in any case."

They jogged through Ebonheart, ignoring the confused looks of people in the streets. When at the docks, they walked east scanning the boats. The dock was a hive of activity, as the eastern docks were devoted to shipping and fishing rather than travel, and everywhere people were moving crates and attending to the ships' mooring.

Llovesi craned her neck above the crowd, and noticed a boat that was smaller than the others. A middle aged Imperial woman was busy with the ropes on the small jetty nearby. She straightened up warily as Llovesi and Julan approached.

"Are you Blatta Hateria?" Llovesi asked.

"I am. Do I know you?"

"We'd like to go fishing."

The woman smiled. "Is that so? I know a fine place. Excellent fishing. My friend, Mehra Milo, says it's her favourite fishing spot. You ready to go?"

They nodded. The woman unwound the rope from the mooring peg. "Well, hop in then, and make yourselves comfortable. It's a long trip, but I reckon it's worth the wait."

She pushed off the jetty and hoisted the sails. Llovesi sank down next to Julan in relief. They'd done it. They'd escaped.


	26. Poems and Tools

_**Chapter 25: Poems and Tools**_

Normally, the only sound in this chamber deep in the bowels of the Ministry of Truth was the scurrying of rats. Today, it was the whip.

"Again," Berel Sala commanded, his back to the mer. The whip cracked. Still she did not make a sound.

"You realise," he said, turning around, "that you are never leaving this place? Why do you remain silent?"

Alvela Saram gritted her teeth and addressed the floor. "If I am going to die here, why should I tell you anything?" she choked out.

Berel Sala placed his boot on her neck and pushed her face into the ground.

"Filth," he said. "Traitor. It is not my judgement you should fear, but the judgement of the Saints and the Three. You have knowingly helped dissidents and heretics. Think on your sins. Think on your soul."

The mer remained silent, her naked form shaking on the ground.

Berel Sala sighed. "Know that I do this for my Gods," he said. He took her hands, almost gently for there was no resistance, and drew his knife. Then he started the cutting.

Alvela Saram screamed. "Llovesi! Her name was Llovesi! That's all I know, please, please!"

She pulled her shackled wrists away, held the bleeding stumps on her hands to her face and howled. Berel Sala took the knife one last time, and slit her throat. The room fell silent. "Good," he whispered.

Then he straightened, and addressed the Ordinator with the whip: "Fetch Duldrar Saren," he said. "I want to assemble a team immediately. We will find everything there is to know about this 'Llovesi' and then we will destroy her, in the name of the Tribunal. Go. Then return here and clean up."

The Ordinator left. Berel Sala contemplated Alvela Saram's broken form on the floor for a moment, then he too left. Soon, there was no sound in the chamber but the scurrying of rats.

* * *

The sun was drawing low in the sky, casting a heather-pink glow on the waves as Blatta steered the boat into an inlet on Azura's coast.

Llovesi and Julan were snoozing lightly, her head on his shoulder, when the change in direction woke them.

"We're nearly there," said Blatta behind them.

Llovesi straightened the crick in her neck, and turned to look at the island they were approaching. It was large, and she could make out a set of carved steps winding up the island and out of sight. They were approaching a small wooden dock where a robed Dunmer woman was sitting, waiting, a boat moored nearby.

"Here we go." Blatta lowered the sails and picked up a long oar, much like the gondoliers in Vivec used, and steered the boat towards the dock. She threw a rope to the Dunmer woman, who tied the boat to a mooring post next to the other one.

Blatta brought the boat round and Julan and Llovesi stepped stiffly onto the small dock. It felt good to be on solid ground again. The Dunmer shook their hands.

"Greetings," she said, "I'm Vevrana Aryon, a monk of Holamayan. The monastery is here, on this island. Take the stone pathway north from the docks and the path uphill. A magical shield hides the entrance; it will open at dusk and dawn only, the magical twilight hours sacred to Azura. Mehra Milo has told us of your coming. You can find her in the library with Master Barelo. Later, I can arrange for your return to Vivec whenever you are ready."

Llovesi looked at the darkening sky. "Isn't it dusk now?"

The woman smiled. "You forget that it is still winter, sera. Azura's hours are from six to eight by the clock, and are not based on the light of the sky. It is currently only five on the clock. You can wait here, or go up, as you choose."

Llovesi chose to go up, and they left Blatta and Vevrana chatting and started to climb the wide stone steps. They curved round into the centre of the island. A large shell-shaped Velothi tower sat in the middle of a clearing, set into the backs of the cliffs. It was completely hidden from the outside world. Llovesi and Julan went to sit against the building wearily.

"I hope this is worth it," Julan said, then yawned. "This is a long way to come for nothing."

"Mehra wouldn't have asked us to come here if they hadn't found anything," Llovesi replied, hoping she was right. Could they be about to find the lost prophecies?

They sat for a while in quiet contemplation. Llovesi ached; her muscles were tired. The last few weeks had been near constant exertion, physically and mentally. Her induction into the Urshilaku Tribe, Shani, Corprus, Clause...

Suddenly, there was a loud grinding noise, and the wall they were leaning against shifted upwards suddenly. They jumped to their feet, and watched as the stone shell receded back into the building, revealing a small wooden door.

It was peaceful inside, and the large entrance room echoed with the sound of footsteps in the rest of the monastery. A large ash pit sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by shrines to various Dunmer saints. A monk was lighting incense on one of these.

"This place feels special, somehow," Julan whispered. "Protected. As if nothing bad could happen here. I hope that's true."

Llovesi nodded. She felt the same way.

The man by the shrines stood upright and turned to them, smiling.

"Are you Llovesi? Mehra Milo is waiting for you, with Master Barelo, downstairs in the library. While you are here you are welcome to partake of our services and hospitality. Rest in our beds. Speak with the others here, and you may find they can be of service in various ways."

He indicated the door with a sweep of his arm. Llovesi thanked him, and he returned to his prayers.

They walked down a set of wide shallow steps, and into a large room lined with bookshelves. The shelves were old and dusty, but the books were well kept. They walked through to the centre of the library. Here, cushions were piled around a low table, and Mehra Milo was sitting with an old Dunmer man, some parchment on the table in front of them.

Mehra stood up and embraced Llovesi.

"Thank you for rescuing me, Llovesi. I'm glad you two got out okay as well. This is Master Barelo." She indicated the old monk still seated and he rose to his feet with the aid of a cane.

"So you are Llovesi," he said in a tired, cracked voice. "I'm Master Gilvas Barelo, the abbot of Holamayan Monastery. Thank you for helping Mehra Milo. She says you are interested in 'lost prophecies.' I believe we can help you."

He eased himself back onto the cushions and motioned for Llovesi to join him at the table. Julan sat himself next to her eagerly.

"I have reviewed the Apographa, the 'hidden writings'," Master Barelo said, "and have found two passages of particular interest. We've made copies of these passages to give you. Many are familiar with the two Nerevarine prophecies current among the Ashlanders called 'The Stranger' and 'The Seven Visions'. We have two other prophecies, 'The Lost Prophecy' and 'The Seven Curses', that may offer additional insights into the riddles surrounding the coming of the Incarnate. Perhaps these are the Lost Prophecies that your friend Nibani Maesa told you about.

"We have also prepared a document for you called 'Kagrenac's Tools'. This document will explain to you, and to others, the terrible secret that the Temple conceals about the true history of the Tribunal and the corrupt nature of their divine powers. It is to conceal this secret that the Temple persecutes the Nerevarine and the Dissident Priests. This persecution must stop. We are fiercely loyal to the Temple's ancient traditions. But we are troubled that the ultimate source of the Tribunal's divinity might be the same as the source of Dagoth Ur's evil power. Dagoth Ur's power seems to wax as the Tribunal's power wanes. We must be united against the true enemy, Dagoth Ur. And if you are the Nerevarine, you must lead us against him."

He passed all three documents across to her and Llovesi looked down at them, her heart thudding.

"Can you talk me through these?" she asked.

"Certainly. Shall we start with the last document? I summarised it from the Apographa myself, and it is central to the divergence of our beliefs from the Temple's.

"Long ago, Dwemer miners discovered a great magical stone under Red Mountain. Lord Kagrenac, High Priest and Magecrafter of the ancient Dwemer, determined that this magical stone was the heart of the god Lorkhan, cast here in the Dawn Era as a punishment for his mischief in creating the mortal world. Kagrenac was determined to use the heart's divine powers to create a new god for the benefit of the Dwemer, so he forged three artefacts to draw power from the heart.

"These are called collectively 'Kagrenac's Tools'. 'Wraithguard', the gauntlet that protects, 'Sunder', the hammer to produce a volume of power, and 'Keening', the dagger that flays and focuses the power.

"When Kagrenac used these tools on the heart in the battle of Red Mountain the Dwemer race disappeared entirely from the mortal world. Nobody knows exactly what happened. Lord Indoril Nerevar and Lord Dagoth Voryn retrieved the tools, and Nerevar asked Voryn to guard the tools while he consulted with his counsellors, Vivec, Almalexia and Sotha Sil, to decide what to do with them.

"But Lord Dagoth was tempted by the power of the tools. When Nerevar and the counsellors returned to Red Mountain, he refused to give them up. He fought Nerevar and the counsellors, but was mortally wounded and driven off, and the tools were recovered. They decided to keep the tools safe, but after Nerevar's death, Vivec, Almalexia and Sotha Sil too yielded to temptation and went to Lorkhan's heart to give themselves divine powers.

"It was discovered that Lord Dagoth had not died. We believe, although we do not know, that his experiments joined him with the heart in some way, so he could draw power directly from it. We think that Dagoth Ur, as he so came to call himself, was driven by anger and greed and used the heart without caution or restraint. As a result he has become terribly powerful, and terribly mad. The Tribunal showed care and restraint and were not driven mad, and did much good. But it seems they too have been subtly corrupted by the heart's power.

"Kagrenac's tools are cursed. Stealing power from the heart of a God is a terrible folly, and fated to disaster. The Tribunal can no longer control the power of the heart. They grow weak, and cannot protect us from Dagoth Ur. Moreover, they conceal the truth of their powers in shame, and persecute the Nerevarine and Dissident priests. This too is folly, for divided we are weak. We must unite against Dagoth Ur if we are to end his hold on this land."

He stopped, and sipped a mouthful of water from a goblet nearby, offering some to Llovesi and Julan. Llovesi drank slowly, her mind a blur. She remembered what Yagrum Bagran had said to her, only a few days ago.

Kagrenac shaping 'mythopoeic forces'. He had acted like a God, the fate of his entire race a result of his choices. And the Tribunal – were they the same? She had never bothered much about the Living Gods, other than a vague interest in the idea. But now they were revealed to be frauds, equivalents of Dagoth Ur. Did it matter that their intentions were good? _I had good intentions once, and I hurt a lot of people. Too much power is dangerous, no matter whose hands it lies in_.

She thought of the silent God in the city that bore his name. Could he really sit back and watch the destruction of his home, because of shame?

Master Barelo coughed politely, bringing her back.

"Perhaps now you'd like to hear our interpretations of 'The Lost Prophecy' and 'The Seven Curses'?" he asked politely.

"Yes, please."

Julan squeezed her hand.

"Very well," Master Barelo ran his finger down the lines of 'The Seven Curses', reading aloud as he did:

"_through the doors of the unmourned house_

_where scoffers scoff and schemers scheme_

_from the halls of the oath-breaking house_

_rings seven curses of Gods blasphemed_

_first curse, Curse-of-Fire_

_second curse, Curse-of-Ash_

_third curse, Curse-of-Flesh_

_fourth curse, Curse-of-Ghosts_

_fifth curse, Curse-of-Seed_

_sixth curse, Curse-of-Despair_

_seventh curse, Curse-of-Dreams_

"Your copy of 'The Seven Curses' bears our guesses at interpreting the verses. In short form: Seven curses come from House Dagoth, or House Dwemer, or both. Fire and ash come from Red Mountain. Flesh is Corprus. Ghosts, Seed, and Despair are unclear, but Curse-of-Dreams seems to refer to recent cases of soul sickness and Sleeper attacks in the towns."

He pushed the paper back towards her. "There is more annotated on there, read it at your leisure. Now, 'The Lost Prophecy':

"_From seventh sign of eleventh generation,_

_Neither Hound nor Guar, nor Seed nor Harrow,_

_But Dragon-born and far-star-marked,_

_Outlander Incarnate beneath Red Mountain,_

_Blessed Guest counters seven curses,_

_Star-blessed hand wields thrice-cursed blade,_

_To reap the harvest of the unmourned house_."

Julan dropped her hand suddenly, and she felt him flinch beside her. She was shocked too. _What?_

Master Barelo inclined his head at her reaction. "Again, I've annotated your copy of 'The Lost Prophecy' with our best efforts at interpretation. But a rough summary might be: 'An outlander - foreign-born, but welcomed as a guest - confronts seven curses beneath Red Mountain. His, or her, hand, blessed by Azura, uses a cursed blade to bring justice to House Dagoth, or House Dwemer, or both.' The Nerevarine? An outlander? That wouldn't please many Ashlanders, and may explain how the prophecy got lost."

Julan stood up suddenly and excused himself, leaving the room. Llovesi barely noticed him go. _Outlander Incarnate_. Could it be true? Did she _want _it to be true?

She picked up the pieces of parchment. "Thank you, Master Barelo. For your help and time."

He nodded, and spoke again as Llovesi rose from the cushions: "Our interest in the Nerevarine used to be a matter of principle, a willingness to consider the validity of mystical insights rejected by Temple doctrine. Now, Dagoth Ur grows stronger while the Tribunal grows weaker, and the return of Saint Nerevar, even if only reborn in spirit, may be our best prospect of salvation.

"So long as the Ordinators, Buoyant Armigers, and Tribunal could contain the Blight and Dagoth Ur's creatures within the Ghostfence, faith in the Temple's protective power was strong. But now travellers and settlements suffer from Blight storms and marauding monsters, and the people fear the Temple is losing its ages-old battle with the Devil Dagoth Ur. If the outlander is to be a Nerevarine, then so be it. We need the Nerevarine, no matter who they may be. You know now what you must do, but please, rest here a while before you depart."

Llovesi thanked him again, and left the library, Mehra Milo at her side.

"So Llovesi, will you go to Nibani Maesa now?" she asked.

"Yes. I hope these prophecies will help her decide the right course of action. But first I think I'd like to rest here for a few days. Do some reading."

Mehra nodded, smiling. "Tell me," she said, "did Caius have any message for me? All this trouble with the Ordinators – I've found it hard to communicate recently."

Llovesi looked at Mehra's earnest face and her heart sunk slightly. "Oh Mehra, I'm sorry. He's been recalled, he's left Morrowind."

Mehra looked crestfallen. "Caius has gone back to the Imperial City? I wonder. I never know what he's thinking. I think he's involved in something secret, something dangerous. I was hoping he might help us. Now he's gone. I don't know what to think."

She turned away, apparently deep in thought. Llovesi made her way back to the entrance hall. Julan was there, lounging against a wall and scowling.

"Well, it looks like the lost prophecies were a big waste of time, doesn't it?" he said as she approached.

"Excuse me?"

"I was hoping I might get something useful from them, but it looks like they were lost for a reason." He sighed. "Just more stupid poetry that makes no sense."

Llovesi crossed her arms. "Are you just saying this because one of them claimed the Nerevarine would be an outlander?"

Julan pushed himself away from the wall and ran an uneasy hand through his hair. "Who knows what they claim? They're prophecies, it's their job to be vague about everything."

"It sounded clear enough to me."

Julan's temper flared suddenly. "Well, that's why it's stupid nonsense, isn't it? Of course the Incarnate isn't going to be an outlander! And you shouldn't forget what we're doing here – you're only pretending to be the Nerevarine to help me – we agreed that!"

"You agreed it for me!"

He glared at her. "Look, I'm sure all this attention is very flattering for you, but keep in mind what's important, okay?"

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I don't want to talk about it any more all right." He left through the wooden door, outside.

Llovesi watched him go, her cheeks burning with rage and embarrassment. Arguing in this temple, of all places! She was sure he wouldn't get far; the entrance was bound to be closed by now. All the same... she twisted the telepathy ring on her finger.

_Get out of my head, Llovesi, I'm not talking to you right now!_

She let the ring go. _Right. Fine. That's the way he wants to play it._ Well, she wasn't going to wait up for him. She turned on her heel and stalked off to find a bed to sleep in for the night.

* * *

She was roused the next morning by someone shaking her gently. It was Julan, and he was shivering slightly.

"Julan? What's going on?"

"I got stuck outside. The shield closed after me when I left last night. I had to sleep outside and wait for dawn. I had a bit of time to think, and... well, I'm sorry. Again. I get that you're curious about the prophecies. So, let's just take them back to Nibani Maesa and see what she has to say."

"You're being very reasonable all of a sudden."

"What can I say?" He grinned suddenly. "It was very cold out there."

"Well, come into bed and let me warm you up."

"Oh really!" His grin grew even wider.

"No! Not... I didn't mean... Julan, we're in a temple!"

His grin faded, but he slipped in beside her nevertheless, and they both went back to sleep.

They passed the rest of the waking day reading in the library and talking to the dissident priests, learning of their beliefs. In the evening, they were invited to share in a communal meal with the rest of the monks. For the first time in a few weeks, Llovesi felt truly safe and at peace.

It was with regret that she left the following day with Julan. Vevrana had them back in Ebonheart by midday and there was a sense of returning to the real world again.

"I wish we could just teleport to the Urshilaku Camp," Llovesi said, and sighed.

Julan looked surprised. "You should've said. I'll set a Mark when we get there."

"You'll have to teach me that," Llovesi said, as they set off for Vivec. "And, well, a lot of other spells I guess."

Julan laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be teaching you something!"

In the end, they took the silt strider as far as Khuul and walked east, but the whole journey still took them two days. The Urshilaku greeted them warmly, and Nibani Maesa bid them inside her yurt.

"So Clanfriend, do you bring me news of the lost prophecies?" she asked.

"I do," Llovesi replied, and passed her the papers Gilvas Barelo had given her.

Nibani took them. "These are the lost prophecies? You will tell me these things, over and over, until I have them by heart. And then you will tell me what these priests say, what they see in these words. And then, you must leave me. Hunt. Sleep. Train. Feed. Learn the land. I must bring these things into me, and place them before my ancestors, and listen to them, and to the skies and stars of my dreams. And then, when the moons have come and gone, return, and I will give you my judgement."

So Llovesi spoke, telling the wise woman everything Gilvas Barelo had said, and talked her through the annotations on the documents. Nibani sat and listened, her eyes closed. Then, when Llovesi had finished, Nibani rose and held open the yurt's entrance for them without another word.

"Hmph." Julan snorted, once they were outside. "Nibani Maesa may believe this lost prophecies stuff, but I don't. This is pointless." He sat down moodily in the dust while Llovesi pulled the tent from her pack and started to pitch it.

"Well, we're not long from hearing Nibani's judgment, so you'll have your answers soon enough. Give me a hand with the tent will you?"

Julan got to his feet and started irritably jabbing poles into the canvas.

"What did Nibani mean by the moons coming and going?" Llovesi asked Julan, once the tent was standing.

"Oh, that just means one day. Wise woman talk. So what are we going to do?"

"I suppose I'd better go and write some letters," Llovesi said, lifting the tent flap and crouching to go inside.

Julan followed her. "Who to?"

"The other Blades, just to let them know what's going on. It'd be good to stay in contact. And I guess I'd better write a report as well."

"Sounds fun," Julan said sarcastically, and yawned. "I'm going to have a nap. Let me know when you decide to do something exciting."

He unfurled a bedroll and collapsed on it, pausing only to kick off his boots.

Soon the tent was filled with the sounds of Julan's snores, and Llovesi's charcoal on paper. She wrote the same letter out seven times, checking the addresses of the agents. Then she wrote a short note about the lost prophecies to send to the Emperor. It was a strange feeling. She wasn't even sure if it would reach him.

She was just sealing it with wax, when Julan sat up and slid his arms around her waist.

"Are you finished?" he asked, whispering into her ear.

She turned around. "Actually, I am."

"Good," he pulled her onto his lap. "Because I just thought of something fun we could do."

He slid his hands up her shirt and they fell backwards onto the bedroll.

Llovesi straddled him and planted her hands either side of his face. "Does this mean I'm back in your good books then?"

"For some reason, I just can't stay mad at you..." He sighed and moved his hands to her hips.

"I wonder why," Llovesi said dryly.

"Shall we stop talking about it?" Julan asked. "Tomorrow is another day, and right now," he rose beneath her until his face met hers, "there's something I'd much rather be doing."

Llovesi smiled and kissed him. Tomorrow was another day indeed, and if Julan was happy with a bit of escapism, so was she.

* * *

**A/N: Hope this slightly lore-heavy chapter is okay for everyone! Morrowind's backstory is just so important that I felt I couldn't cut too much. A note to say there may or may not be a chapter tomorrow, as I'm off to visit a friend in another city and not sure when I'll be back yet!**


	27. In Caverns Dark

**A/N: Thanks to lluvialpz for the favourite and to everyone for the views - nearly at 1000 now, wow! Here's the next slice of Llovesi and Julan's adventures...**

* * *

_**Chapter 26: In Caverns Dark**_

She was running down dark tunnels filled with stagnant water, panic rising in her chest. Every turning led to another dead end, every passageway held ominous shifting shadows.

Suddenly, Clause was in front in her.

"Clause!" she shouted in relief. "Clause, we have to get out, there's something terrible-"

But Clause just pointed at her face. "Monster," he said.

Llovesi looked down, and saw the reflection of a Corprus monster staring back at her.

"No, that can't be right! I was cured, Clause, come back, I'm safe, I-"

She caught onto his wrist as he turned to run, but something wasn't right. Now it was Clause's face that was blistering with sores, Clause's features that were twisting out of recognisable shape. She felt the wrist she was holding mutate in her grasp and as she looked down the sores on her own hands were disappearing...

Llovesi woke in a cold sweat and shivered in the tent. It took her a long time to realise where she was, and that she was safe, but the realisation brought no comfort.

So, the nightmares were back. Hardly surprising really. At least she could be sure that this was an invention of her own mind and no sending of Dagoth Ur's. The memory of it felt different in her mind, and the guilt felt just as real awake. She dressed quietly and left the tent.

Of course, there was one letter she had yet to write. In many ways, the hardest letter of all. It had been just over a week, and it was time she faced up to it.

Llovesi sat outside the tent, watching the Urshilaku camp coming to life around her, and twirled her stick of charcoal pensively. Then she placed it to the paper, and after a few moments more hesitation, began to write:

_Ren,_

_This wont be an easy leter for you to recieve. It isnt an easy one to send either._

_Clause is dead._

_I'm sory. (I realy am). I arived to late to do anything. But I will hunt down the ones responsuble._

_I'm probly going to be away for a wile, so you shud send any leters to Gildan in Ald'ruhn (if you want to reply)._

_Llovesi._

She set the charcoal down and read the letter over before folding it and sealing it. She thought her spelling was probably still awful, it seemed to get worse when she was feeling particularly stressed, but she couldn't care less. Right now, it seemed the message was the important thing.

She tried to drag her mind back from wandering down the dark tunnels of Illunibi, but it was too late. Unbidden images flashed before her eyes: mutilated corpses, flickering candles, glowing shrines, and those blue eyes, scared and not yet mad, staring at her from a twisted brow slicked with matted red hair...

She shivered, then flinched as a hand landed on her shoulder.

"You're up early."

It was Julan. She relaxed, but only slightly. It was daylight again, but she knew that her nightmares had merely slunk off to bury themselves in the deepest trenches of her mind. They would be back, sure as anything.

Julan studied her face with a frown. "Are you okay? You look pale."

"I couldn't sleep." She shrugged his hand from her shoulder and stood up, shaking the cramp from her legs. Walking a few paces away, she pretended to watch some Ashlanders tanning hides but in reality she didn't want Julan to feel that she was still shaking.

Abruptly she turned around.

"Let's do some training," she said.

Julan looked confused. "Are you sure? I mean, don't you want to eat something first?"

Llovesi shook her head. "What I want, is to take my mind... I just think it would be a good idea, okay? After being cooped up in Holamayan the past few days..."

Julan shrugged. "Fine. But in a bit. You may not be hungry but I'm starving. I'm going to get some food."

He ducked back into the tent, leaving Llovesi standing alone.

She turned on her heel and before she knew it she was running out of the camp, north towards the sea.

She sprinted until the waves were lapping over her boots, then she slowed to a jog and ran west along the beach, breathing hard.

It felt good to be running. The air was crisp and cold and her feet slapped against the wet sand with satisfying thuds. She felt refreshed, strong even. Her muscles moved powerfully beneath her skin, she was a far cry from the girl she had been nearly half a year ago. So why did her mind feel so weak?

Actually, she could answer that one. Nibani Maesa's decision. It hung over her, as ominous as the clouds over Red Mountain. It would tip the scales on a lot of things. Her future. Her relationship with Julan. All in all, it seemed a cruel coincidence that recent events had decided to haunt her as well. _No point in dwelling_. This afternoon would come whether she willed it to stay away or not. She turned and jogged back to the camp.

She and Julan passed the day sparring, but their matches were tense and fraught with mistakes. Llovesi refused to stop, despite the deep purple flush in her cheeks and the sweat running into her eyes.

Finally, Julan sheathed his sword and glanced at the darkening sky.

"You think it's time?" Llovesi asked, strapping her spears to her back.

He shrugged. "We might as well go and see."

As they approached the wise woman's yurt, the cloth entrance swung to one side and Nibani Maesa stood there.

"Come," she said. "I am ready to give you my judgement."

The early evening gloom had invaded the yurt and Llovesi watched as Nibani lit the fire, the swaying flames throwing her wrinkled face into sharp relief.

"The ancestors and the stars have given me clear signs," the wise woman began, and Llovesi reached unconsciously for Julan's hand.

"The lost prophecies leave no doubt - the Incarnate shall be an outlander. You, blessed by Azura, must lift the seven curses of Dagoth Ur. Prophecy has shown the seven steps of the Nerevarine's path, and I have been chosen as your guide for each step on that path. I will read the signs, and show you the way. It is time for you to walk the path of the Seven Visions, and pass the Seven Trials of the Seven Visions."

Llovesi's breathing quickened and she felt Julan drop her hand. _Not the Nerevarine... one who may become the Nerevarine... walk the path._ Her heart threatened to leap from her chest.

Nibani stoked the fire. "You have told me how you were born on a certain day to uncertain parents. So you have passed the first trial. My dreams show me that you also fulfil the second trial, that 'neither blight nor age can harm him/The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies'. I have read the signs, but I cannot understand. Can you explain this to me?"

"Yes." Llovesi's mouth was dry. "Last month I contracted Corprus Disease. The Telvanni wizard Divayth Fyr managed to cure me. He said... he said I still have the 'benefits' of the disease. That I may never again get sick... or die."

Nibani's face remained impassive as she spoke again: "That you have overcome the Curse-of-Flesh is strange enough, but that it should protect you from Blight and age is past belief. Yet the signs of my dreams are clear. You have passed the second trial. But the third trial is unfulfilled. The mystery of the third trial is not my secret to share. Go to Sul-Matuul, the guardian of our cult, and he shall tell you of the third trial. When you have fulfilled the third trial, return to me for guidance on your next steps on the path of the Nerevarine."

Outside the yurt, Julan snorted and crossed his arms.

"How long are you going to keep this attitude up?" Llovesi asked crossly, turning in the direction of Sul-Matuul's yurt. She knew his reaction was justified, given what they had just heard, but it was still starting to wear thin.

"As long as this charade continues," he replied with a scowl, "this is pointless."

"She didn't say I was the Nerevarine," Llovesi said, although now it felt like she was lying to herself, "just that I would follow the path. So let's see what Sul-Matuul has to say. It might help you."

The old warrior-chief was waiting for them as well, inside his yurt.

"Well," he said, subjecting Llovesi to one of the most scrutinising looks she had ever undergone, "you wish to know about the third trial, and I shall tell you. You have entered the path of the Nerevarine. This is a hard thing to believe. But Nibani Maesa spoken to me at length of this last night, and I have had time to consider. Therefore I shall keep my own counsel, and set before you my own test. I do not dispute with the wise women, but their ways are not the ways of the warrior. Many before have tried the path of the Nerevarine, but all have failed the warrior's test. You must have strength, courage, and cunning. These things I would test."

Llovesi swallowed nervously, but her voice was determined when she replied.

"What would you have me do?"

"Nearby lies Kogoruhn, the ancient halls of the forgotten house, House Dagoth. In recent time, creatures of the Blight have come to dwell there. I myself went there, with some brave hunters, and came back again, but it was a bad place, and I am not ashamed to say I was afraid, for myself and my men. If you would have from me the secret of the third trial, the 'caverns dark' where Azura's eye sees, you will first bring to me three tokens from dark Kogoruhn.

"The first token is Corprus weepings from a Corprus beast, to show that you are proof against the disease's corruption. The second token is a cup with the mark of House Dagoth, for I have myself seen such cups there, and will know you have seen with your eyes what I have seen with mine. The third token is the Shadow Shield, which lies on the Tomb of Dagoth Morin, in the lava tunnels deep beneath ruined Kogoruhn. Bring these things to me, and then I will tell you the secret of the third trial."

He marked the location of Kogoruhn on Llovesi's map, then bade them good luck.

Outside the yurt, the camp was retiring for the night. Yurts glowed with the light of fires within, and Llovesi and Julan walked back to their tent, not wanting to approach the Sixth House base at night.

Julan sighed exasperatedly again as they ducked inside.

"What is it now?" Llovesi asked.

"This is a big waste of time, you know! This isn't getting me anywhere. How am I supposed to carry out my mission if we're getting all side-tracked with a stupid prophecy that isn't even right?"

"Well, do you have a better idea?"

"Well, I... you know I don't. But I don't like this. It's all heading in the wrong direction. They should have realised you're not the one by now. Something's not right here."

"I think we should find these caverns of Azura the third trial mentions. They seem to be important."

"Yes... and they'll only tell you where they are if you play along. I suppose you're right. I know I'm too suspicious for my own good. I just... oh, never mind. We'll get the tokens from Kogoruhn. I just hope these caverns will give me the answers I need on what to do next."

* * *

The walk to Kogoruhn was long but uneventful. They trekked south, climbing ashy hills and fighting off cliff racers and alits. It seemed that more and more of the creatures they were fighting had succumbed to the Blight: their skin mottled with raw patches, their eyes filled with rage.

They passed the stronghold of Falasmaryon while the noon sun was high in the sky, and when they crested the next hill Kogoruhn was beneath them.

It was clear to them why the place was forgotten. Hidden in its own valley, the land seemed to be trying to swallow the ruins up. Great piles of ash had accumulated round the buildings that Llovesi could see.

She had never been in a Dunmer stronghold before, though they had passed them on their travels round the island. Kogoruhn seemed in no worse shape than the others, but then it was hard to be frightened of a place in the light of day.

That feeling changed almost instantaneously as they scrambled up some half-destroyed steps. Julan hissed suddenly next to her.

"You feel it too?" she asked.

"Yes. It's very bad. Like Ilunibi."

It was. The same sick, creeping feeling throbbed through the air. Llovesi understood why the skies were so silent. She had to fight the urge to turn and run herself.

It was only made worse when, at the top of the stairs, she tripped over something.

An Ordinator, half rotted away, his golden armour beginning to rust.

"Go carefully," she said, tearing her eyes away from the body's mangled face. She already knew that Sixth House servants were capable of slaughtering an entire patrol of legionnaires, but Ordinators were supposed to be the elite...

They tried one of the smaller domes first. They had no sooner gone through the door than an ash creature was upon them.

Robed, grey-skinned with a fleshy trunk, it ran at them with its claws raised.

"You," it growled, "you refused the sweetness of Lord Dagoth's friendship! Now know the bitterness of his fury!"

This time Llovesi was ready. As it approached, she swung her spear at its legs, knocking it back, then thrust the other spear, impaling it against a banner post. It hung there, twitching, staining the red fabric a darker shade. Llovesi tugged her spear back, and the creature fell to a limp pile on the ground.

Julan kicked it over cautiously. "What _are_ these creatures?" he asked in awe-struck tones. "Were they people once? They have _things_ coming out of their faces!"

Llovesi had turned away and was examining some writing on the ground. She was fairly sure the Daedric letters were scrawled in blood.

"The dreamer is awake."

"What?" Julan asked, joining her.

"That's what it says: the dreamer is awake." It felt wrong in her mouth, like she was reciting a spell. She clamped her jaw shut and scanned the furniture around the room.

"Dreamer... that's what those naked lunatics call themselves, isn't it?"

Llovesi wasn't listening again. She had spotted something on a desk just above the message scrawled in blood. Almost as if it had just been left there, forgotten. A cup. She reached out and grabbed it. It was black stone and cool to the touch, carved with the same symbol that emblazoned the banners.

"Is that one of the tokens?" Julan asked as she slipped it into her bag.

"I think so. Come on, I don't think we'll find anything else in here."

The next dome was somehow even gloomier. Llovesi concentrated hard and sent up a feeble light spell.

Something moved in the dark.

What, on a first glance, she had taken to be a pile of old robes was shifting, billowing, growing tall. Two thin grey arms emerged from the mass, and the thing bellowed, a low alien moan that raised the hairs on the back of Llovesi neck.

Then it turned its face towards her and she started screaming.

She didn't stop until they had run from the dome, dodging the explosions the creature sent their way, and run into the main hall of Kogoruhn, where she collapsed against a stone wall, gasping weakly.

"That... thing," she said, when she had the strength to speak, "I've seen it. In my dreams... nightmares..."

"Me too," Julan said in a strangely choked voice.

They looked at each other, opening their mouths at the same time, speaking simultaneously with words they had never said before, words they didn't know went together: "Ascended Sleeper."

"Right," Llovesi said, standing up and gripping her spears till her knuckles turned white in an effort to stop her hands shaking. "Right. Let's just get the weepings and the shield and get out of here."

* * *

They moved deeper through the ruins. Everything was eerily quiet, but every now and again they caught whispers in the air, or voices below them. Or they thought they did. It was dark too, and Llovesi didn't want to risk using any more magicka on a light spell. They moved by the light of the red candles.

Fairly soon, a Corprus victim stumbled into them, crying and tearing at what was left of her hair. When she lay dead, Llovesi gritted her teeth and, using her dagger, split open one of the sores on the former woman's stomach. She collected the thick yellow liquid that oozed out in a small glass vial, trying not to retch.

Two down, one to go.

They passed rooms covered in chalk scrawlings, rooms where chairs had been stacked obsessively, forming swaying stacks that scraped the high stone ceiling. They tiptoed past a room where ash creatures in loincloths pawed at the gaps in their faces and cried and moaned:

"What are you? Where is this place? I'm so tired, _let me sleep_!"

"_Where are you, Lord_? We cannot hear you... _speak_ to us! _Please_!"

They passed rooms where unfortunate adventurers had been left to rot. Llovesi whispered prayers to Azura and the Nine Divines for their souls, and set them on a funeral pyre. She couldn't imagine a fate worse than haunting Kogoruhn till the end of time.

Just when Llovesi was thinking they had been walking for hours and that the heavy atmosphere of the place was surely going to drive her more insane than the inhabitants, they heard the sound of trickling water coming from behind a door ahead.

Julan frowned and unlocked it. "A sewer, here?"

"Well, these places used to be functioning forts, didn't they?" Llovesi replied, stepping past him cautiously.

The sewer was grimy, but unused, and was almost a welcome change of scenery.

"Look at this, Llovesi," Julan said, lifting the lid off a nearby crate. "Moon sugar, ash statues..."

"This must be one of their main bases. We should be careful. They won't have left this unguarded."

They hadn't, and Llovesi and Julan soon found themselves running into not only ash creatures, but Daedra as well.

"I think we've definitely passed the warrior's test." Julan said, brushing his sweaty hair back from his face after a tricky battle with a frost Atronach. Up ahead the sewer wall caved in, and they ducked through the passageway into a new set of tunnels.

"We must be quite deep now," Julan said, "it's getting warmer."

It was. Llovesi wiped sweat from her forehead as Julan paused to check their supply of health potions. She could hear deep rumblings and the hissing of steam. The same apprehensive feeling that had struck her as they climbed the outside of Kogoruhn was back, and more powerful than ever. Something very bad was waiting for them.

They stumbled round the tunnels, searching for the tomb and the Shadow Shield. After a while, Llovesi held up a hand to stop Julan.

"This is stupid," she said, "we're going in circles. We need a way of marking where we've been or-"

"Llovesi, what... what's that?"

She turned.

In the red gloom of the passageway, a tall dark figure was approaching. Then it stopped. As if it was waiting for them.

"He said you would come to us. And he was right. Have you come to submit? Or come to die?"

His voice was deep and clear, and when he stepped forward again Llovesi could see him. Grey-skinned, red-eyed, the man could have been a Dunmer, probably once had been. Except he was seven, no, eight feet tall and his sinewy limbs bulged with unnatural muscle. He was naked save for a long loincloth and ornate belt, his dark hair swept back from his head by a golden crown and a long beard brushed his navel.

He tilted his head to one side as if he were considering her.

"Lord Dagoth says you will join us or die. I thought you might just leave us alone and go about your own affairs. But Lord Dagoth says it is not your way, to leave a thing well enough alone. Perhaps. I cannot remember you at all. But I do my Lord's bidding. I have always done his bidding. So go to him and submit. You will be given power and place. And, perhaps, peace and forgiveness. Do as you like."

Llovesi gripped her spears, and heard Julan draw an arrow back next to her.

"I'm not here to submit, and I'm not here to die!" she shouted.

Her adversary closed his eyes and his deep voice rang out in the passageway.

"Then we fight."

He was fast and strong, faster and stronger than any opponent Llovesi had fought before. But she was stronger now too, and she held her fear at bay. She dodged and weaved his attacks as he slashed at her, but all she was doing was holding him off. She was tired and her mind was full of fog from slogging through the ruin. Sooner or later she would take a false step and-

But suddenly one of Julan's arrows plunged deep into the creature's powerful chest and he roared, swatting Julan aside like a fly.

"Julan, no!"

The creature grabbed her, its claws cutting deep into her arms, attacking with a powerful spell. _Mistake_. Llovesi felt her magicka reserves flow again as she absorbed the power, and she pushed as hard as she could with her mind. The creature was flung back against the wall by a powerful fireball that singed Llovesi's fingertips as it left her hands. He landed, on fire and screaming, with an audible crack.

She ran over to Julan.

"I'm okay," he said weakly from the ground, "just bleeding. Can you pass me a healing potion? That, that was an Ash Vampire. I think. I can't believe it! But, we survived!"

"Yes," Llovesi said tersely. "Can you walk? I think we should try to leave as soon as possible."

By some miracle, they found a door they had missed earlier that led into a smaller section of tunnels. And there, on a rock cairn, was a metal shield, glimmering with an enchantment. Llovesi almost cried with joy when she saw it.

She grabbed the shield, and Julan recalled them back to the Urshilaku camp. Llovesi gulped in the evening air, glad to be free from the stuffy, lava pool-filled passages beneath Red Mountain. Her mind felt clearer too, away from the oppressive atmosphere of half-whispers and deranged ramblings.

"We did it!" she shouted, startling a few passing Ashlanders, and threw her arms around Julan, laughing.

He seemed relieved too, and smiled back at her. "Yes. Now let's go and see Sul-Matuul."


	28. Outlander Incarnate

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who's told me they're enjoying so far! Here's a new chapter!**

* * *

**_Chapter 27: Outlander Incarnate_**

"I am impressed."

Sul-Matuul took each token from Llovesi and scrutinised them in the firelight, turning the cup this way and that, passing a wrinkled hand over the burnished metal of the Shadow Shield. Then he set them back in front of her.

"These three tokens you have brought me. You may keep them. You have passed the Warrior's Test. And I will give you the secret of the Third Trial: _'In caverns dark Azura's eye sees/and makes to shine the moon and star_.' You remember the verse, yes? This is the Third Vision. And you must go to the Cavern of the Incarnate, a place sacred to Azura, and look for the moon and star. The secret of the Cavern of the Incarnate is set in a riddle:

"_the eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind/the mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl/the dream is the door and the star is the key_

"This riddle is Wisdom's Test. Take counsel of the wisdom of the tribes, and you shall find the way. Seek the Cavern of the Incarnate. Gain the moon and star, and bring it to Nibani Maesa. Take with you my blessing, and the blessing of our tribe, Malipu-Ataman's Belt."

He drew a cloth sash from a nearby chest and laid it in front of her alongside Kogoruhn's tokens. Llovesi thanked him and, taking the items, she and Julan rose and left the yurt.

Outside, Llovesi scanned the camp uncertainly. Everyone seemed too busy to stop for a talk. Beside her, Julan spoke suddenly.

"The Urshilaku are among the most religious of the Ashlander tribes. I'm sure everyone, from the smallest child to the oldest gulakhan will have heard this riddle. You could ask anyone."

She gave him a surprised look and he motioned for her to go. She smiled to herself: it never failed to amaze her how serious Julan could become when dealing with Ashlander customs. Either he was calling their prophecies 'stupid poetry' or he was lecturing her on respect and tradition. Clearly this was something she was meant to do alone.

Walking through the camp, she spotted the Dunmer man she had met when she first arrived in the camp. He was talking to another Ashlander, but he stopped and turned to her as she approached.

"Clanfriend," he said.

"Greetings, muthsera. I never asked you your name?"

"It is Tussurradad, Clanfriend. And I see you now bear a token of our tribe, Malipu-Ataman's Belt. This is proof of Sul-Matuul's blessing. Truly we live in strange times. Did you wish to talk?"

"Please."

They went and sat near the centre of the camp where some Ashlanders were busy preparing a communal evening meal.

"Talk then, Clanfriend, and I will listen."

"I wanted to consult your wisdom, Tussurradad. I have been given a riddle to solve:

"_the eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind/the mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl/the dream is the door and the star is the key_."

Tussurradad looked thoughtful for a moment, then he smiled.

"Of course, the oldest riddle. Let me see..." he snapped a twig from a nearby drybush and drew in the dust at their feet.

"The 'teeth of the wind', this must refer to 'Airan's Teeth' in the Valley of the Wind. These two rocks spires mark the entrance to the Valley of the Wind, and they bear the name of the seer, Airan, one blessed by Azura."

He drew two tall shapes, then a curving valley leading away from them.

"The Needle is a tall rock column in the Valley of the Wind. I have slept beneath it once or twice."

He added another tall shape to his drawing, with a circle on top.

"I recall, at the top of that tall spire is a rock – not white mind, but much lighter than other rocks nearby. It might be the pearl from the riddle."

"Thank you, Tussurradad. But where is the Valley of the Wind?"

He sketched quickly in the sand, a rough map of north-east Vvardenfell taking shape.

"There are two valleys, side by side, on the northeast slopes of Red Mountain. The westmost valley is called Dry Camp Valley; the camps have no water, but they are sheltered from the wind. Dun-Ahhe Caverns are also there. The Valley of the Wind is the eastmost valley; it runs long and straight south between Airan's Teeth, and climbs towards Red Mountain. The mouths of these valleys are to the east along the coast. Pass Bthuand, a Dwemer ruin, and just past Zergonipal, a Daedric ruin, turn south."

Llovesi pulled out her own map and copied the locations Tussurradad had drawn, as well as the directions he had given her.

"Thank you again," she said.

"Go well, Clanfriend."

* * *

She found Julan sharpening his blade outside their tent.

"We're headed to the Valley of the Wind – the riddle was about rock formations. 'Airan's Teeth', things like that."

Julan's mouth fell open. "Oh, _those_ teeth!"

"Pardon?"

"Sorry, I thought the riddle meant actual teeth! 'Airan's Teeth' are just west of my home camp. Why couldn't Sul-Matuul say he was talking about some pointy rocks in the first place?"

They packed up the tent and recalled to Julan's home camp, reasoning they may as well take the shorter path.

The next morning they set off in the dark, a few hours before dawn. They had thought about it and decided that this was the final part of the riddle: '_the star is the key'_. As with Holamayan, perhaps the door would open for them at dawn and dusk.

They didn't talk much as they passed 'Airan's Teeth'. Llovesi vaguely recognised the valley as the place where they had found Shani a few weeks ago, but her mind was occupied. There was a strange feeling of anticipation in the pit of her stomach. She felt that if she tried to talk she would laugh, or cry.

Julan's face was strangely set as well while they walked. The valley curved upwards and inwards dramatically, and they found themselves walking west instead of south. The winds that gave the valley their namesake picked up, and suddenly they were fighting against gales that tugged at their hair and clothes as the last stars in the sky winked out.

They round another corner, and saw the door.

Just as Holamayan had been, tucked out of sight, safe and waiting. The winds died down slightly as they approached.

It was tall, and carved with shapes. Two stars, two crescent moons.

Llovesi's mouth was dry. She glanced at Julan, and he nodded. She placed her hands on the door.

_**In the dawn hour under Azura's Star, the door is opened.**_

That voice, had she heard it before? Julan breathed a whispered: "Azura..." but there was no time for questions or contemplations. With a sound of stone on stone, the doors swung open.

Llovesi stepped forward as if in a dream. The Cavern of the Incarnate was cool and lit with a soft marine glow, as if they were submerged in the ocean. Maybe it was coming from the mushrooms that were growing in the walls, emitting blue, purple and green luminescence. The passage widened in front of them, and a great, carved statue of a woman sat in the centre. He face was turned down, her hands cupped above her crossed legs.

There was something hovering above the woman's hands. It caught the light as it spun, a tiny pinpoint of bright white scintillating in the cave. Julan might have said something, but Llovesi couldn't hear.

She was propelled forwards, she felt compelled to see the object, to touch it.

It was a ring.

She reached out her left index finger, trembling slightly, and slipped it into the ring. It fit perfectly.

Then everything went dark.

She was floating. The stone hands of the statue were in front of her, but larger than life then suddenly she was flying over Morrowind. She could see Daedric text, _The Seven Visions_, moving too fast to be read but she didn't need to read it, _she felt it_ in every bone of her body. It made sense. She passed over Ashlander camps, grey Ashlands, green Grazelands. She was in Ald'ruhn, the red dust of an ashstorm surrounded her, but she was apart from it, then she was moving through Ald Skar. A Telvanni building. Balmora, a bright blue summer sky over the High Town. And a man _she felt like she knew him_ half golden, half grey, watching her approach...

All the while, Azura spoke to her.

She knew it was her, remembered her dream: '_they have taken you from the Imperial City Prison..._' But this time the words were different.

_**Nerevar reborn. Incarnate.**_

_**Your first three trials are finished.**_

_**Now two new trials lie before you.**_

_**Seek the Ashlander Ashkhans and the Great House Councillors.**_

_**Four tribes must name you Nerevarine.**_

_**Three houses must name you Hortator.**_

_**My servant Nibani Maesa shall be your guide.**_

_**And when you are Hortator and Nerevarine, when you have stood before the False Gods and freed the Heart from its prison, heal my people and restore Morrowind.**_

_**Do this for me, and with my blessing.**_

She felt cool earth beneath her, and woke with the realisation that she had fallen to her hands and knees in front of the statue.

_I am the Nerevarine... I am. _Moon-and-Star shone on her finger, _'In caverns dark Azura's eye sees/and makes to shine the moon and star_.' _Azura's eye, she has chosen me..._

But what about Julan then? It made no sense... she rose clumsily to her feet and saw him there behind her rooted to the spot, his eyes wide, breathing hard.

What had he seen?

"I... I can't stay here," he panted suddenly, looking round wildly, "I have to leave, I, I..."

"Julan, wait!"

But he was gone in a flash of light.

"No! Come back! Julan!"

Llovesi sunk to her knees again. This was too much. She was one person. What could she do? Julan was gone; he'd left.

Suddenly, she felt a cool hand slip onto her shoulder. A cool, ghostly hand.

She turned in confusion. A young woman was smiling at her. She was nearly transparent, but Llovesi could still make out her features. She looked no older than a teenager, her red hair piled loosely around her face, a kind smile dressing her lips. When she spoke, her voice sounded far away.

"Welcome, Incarnate, Moon-and-Star Reborn, Hortator, Nerevarine, Mourner of the Tribe Unmourned, Redeemer of the False Gods. I am Peakstar. I was not the one. But I wait and hope. Ask, and I shall answer, if wisdom guides me.

"I will answer when I can, and with what I know. But the visions of Azura are often obscure, for two reasons. One, because the future cannot be known, and choices may always be made. Two, because truth is not clear or simple. Azura's riddles warn us to think long and hard. They force us to search carefully for truth and meaning, and not to rely only on impulse and force."

Llovesi felt dazed. She took the hand the young woman offered her, felt her hand close around cool air and let herself be led to a mummified figure. Peakstar's corpse.

"Am I the Nerevarine?" she asked.

Peakstar smiled.

"You bear the Moon-and-Star, the ring of Nerevar. None may deny; you _are_ Nerevar Reborn, the prophesied Incarnate. The Temple will know you as an enemy. Ordinators will mark you for death, and the Tribunal Faithful of the Great Houses will hate and fear you. The doubters of the Tribes will test your strength and doubt your honour. You will be known. You must prepare, and be ready."

"What must I do, how must I prepare?"

"Dunmer of the Ashlands and Dunmer of the Houses have traditions of a War Leader set over all the tribes in times of need. First, your task is to prove to them their need. Then you must prove that you should be their war leader - the Nerevarine, for Ashlanders; the Hortator, for the Great Houses.

"To show them their need, you must tell them about the Tribunal, how they have adopted the profane tools of the Dwarves, how they have betrayed and misled their people - and give them proofs. You must tell them about Dagoth Ur, and the Sixth House, about their powers and plans, and how the Tribunal no longer has power to contain them."

"Hortator and Nerevarine," Llovesi said, more to herself than anything. Then she hesistated. "But, Peakstar," she started, "what happened to you?"

"I am a failed Incarnate. So are all these who remain here with me in the Cavern of the Incarnate," she gestured around the cave and for the first time Llovesi realised there were other ghosts watching her too. She had the impression of having mistakenly stumbled into an ancient council.

"I survived the Blight," Peakstar continued, "but I fell in battle with an Ash Vampire. I could not master the arts of war. Nor could I learn the ways of the Great Houses. They would not have accepted me as Hortator. Take these few poor things... they are of no use to me."

She pointed at her corpse, and Llovesi noticed a small bundle of possessions at the mummy's feet. She took them and thanked the ghost.

Peakstar smiled. "Now walk with me Incarnate, for the others will surely have words for you too."

A robed Dunmer woman stepped forward, her dark ghostly hair swaying in two long plaits.

"Greetings, I was Ane Teria, a holy crusader of the Temple in the golden era of the Tribunate. I contributed substantially to the writings that were later suppressed by the Temple, and now would be called apographa. I followed the Tribunal unquestioningly, to my regret. I never believed in the Nerevarine prophecies until it was too late. Take my humble possessions, with my blessing."

As Peakstar had, the woman gestured to a mace and a book that her mummified corpse was clutching.

Peakstar led her round behind the statue, where a ghost of a Dunmer man stepped forward, a white-haired mage with a heavily scarred face.

"My name was Erur-Dan. I saw Morrowind fall to the Empire. I lived through the humiliation of the surrender, swore hatred and vengeance against Imperial and Tribunal alike for their betrayals. In later years, I despaired, and turned to Red Mountain, where I grew old and died fighting the Blight and Red Mountain monsters. Take my weapons and armour. I have no further use for them."

A Dunmer man and a Dunmer woman, standing next to each other.

"I was Conoon Chodala, an Ashkhan. I led my people against the Akaviri while the Cyrodiil dogs fled before them like kagouti. I quested deep into the strongholds and Red Mountain, cleansing the unclean things in their own blood. I did not heed the counsel of the wise women, and, to my shame, I craved glory, but never saw my real enemies. My axe and boots are yours, with my blessing."

"I was called Idrenie Nerothan. I lived in the late years of the Tribunate, and behind the scenes, I helped demoralize, then repel the Akaviri invaders. I knew nothing of the Nerevarine or Dagoth Ur until I took refuge with the Ashlanders. I died a fool, trying to loot ruined Kogoruhn. Here. Take these picks. Maybe there's something in the world left worth stealing."

Peakstar led Llovesi back round to the front of the statue, where the final ghost was waiting, another Dunmer man. He had an air of great age and solemnity about him as he spoke.

"I was known as Hort-Ledd. I died four hundred years ago, in the last days of turmoil and unrest after the Empire came to Morrowind. I was a thinker, and not a doer, and though I was marked by the stars, I was not a hero. Take these things of mine. My bones won't complain."

Peakstar returned to her corpse, leaving Llovesi standing in front of the statue of Azura, her arms full of offerings.

"You are the Nerevarine. You are the Incarnate. You are the one. You must not fail," she said simply, then resumed her vigil.

Llovesi felt that it was time to go. She left the way she had come, sparing one last glance for the peaceful cavern behind her. It was sad place, no doubt, all those broken hopes... but somehow fresh hope can spring from despair. She thought of the ghosts' expressions as they implored her to take their last earthly possessions. How long had they been waiting, only for a new failed Incarnate to join them, time and time again? _I must not fail._

Outside, she stored the gifts in her bag and contemplated the Moon-and-Star shining on her finger, next to Julan's telepathy ring... and as soon as she noticed it, a great wave of cold despair hit her, sharp as sea-spray.

Julan was gone, and it was her fault. Or... not her fault exactly, but how could he ever bear to see her again? She had taken his destiny, without even meaning to. Every bitter feeling he'd ever had would surely come rushing back... she remembered their first ever argument, on the streets of Balmora, and winced. But surely they'd moved past that. She had to try. She needed him. She only hoped that he still needed her.

She twisted the telepathy ring, and waited.

Nothing.

Silence.

Wait... _is that scribs_?

Llovesi frowned, and placed her other hand over the ring, ending the connection. It had been muffled, as if it were underwater, but she was sure she'd heard the _skreeing_ of a group of scribs.

So Julan had taken his ring off, or lost it, but she suspected the former was more likely.

She looked at the Moon-and-Star again. It could wait. She would not.


	29. He Is Ours Now

**A/N: Thanks to Dragonshield for the fav! Means a lot! I should point out that this part of the story is very much from Julan's mod, with a few embellishments/changes added by me here and there to fit my story.**

* * *

**_Chapter 28: He Is Ours Now_**

Julan's yurt was empty, but Llovesi knew she would have had a one in a million chance of finding him there. She crossed quickly to Mashti's yurt, but hesitated before pulling back the cloth entrance. She could hear hysterical sobbing coming from inside.

_He has to have been here_.

She pulled the entrance aside, only to find that Mashti had barricaded the way in with what looked like all the furniture in her yurt. It was as clear a sign as any. _What happened between them?_

Llovesi stood stupidly for a few moments, her hand still outstretched, trying to think. Where would he go? Who would know the places he might hide...?

A few minutes later she was running breathlessly into the Ahemmusa Camp. Glancing around, she saw Shani playing with some children by the campfire, and sprinted over.

"Llovesi!" Shani looked up in surprise as she approached and the children ran off giggling. "It's good to see you! Mamaea's only just let me go actually." She got to her feet gingerly as she spoke. "How are you? And where's Julan?"

"Julan's gone missing. I tried to talk to Mashti, but she's barricaded herself in. He disappeared when I found out I was the Nerevarine. Do you have even the slightest idea-"

"What?" Shani cut Llovesi off, and gaped at her. "Julan's gone? And his mother has done _what_? And you're... _what_?"

Llovesi held her left hand up so that Moon-and-Star glinted in the sunlight. "The Nerevarine. It's kind of a long story."

Shani caught her hand and stared at it in a kind of disbelieving reverence. "You're the _Nerevarine_!? This... this is insane! Okay, okay, what to do, what to do..."

She ran a hand through her bedraggled hair, messing it up even more, then seemed to come to a decision.

"Right. You need some answers I think. I just hope it's not too late. But we can't talk here. Let's go to Vos, to the tradehouse. I could use a walk anyway."

* * *

In the tradehouse they ducked into a small storage area on the first floor. Shani jumped onto some crates and crossed her legs.

"Right, this should be private enough to talk. I'm sorry to drag you over here, but you never know which of the hunters might be lurking in the Grazelands, listening in. This was the only place I could think of where we might get some privacy. This was always where we used to come when..."

She let the sentence hang in the air and shrugged her shoulders sadly.

"Anyway, I promised you some answers, didn't I? Julan's mother – virtually everything she's ever told him is a lie. She never found him in the Grazelands – of course not. She got pregnant by Han-Sashael, our Ashkhan. Everyone knows what really happened, but we don't talk about it to spare Ahmabi's feelings. She could never have any children of her own you know..."

That was quite the revelation. Llovesi took a deep breath before she responded. "And Julan never suspected anything?"

Shani scoffed loudly. "She has him brainwashed! But... sometimes I do wonder if he doubted her, he just was too proud to admit it. I mean, he used to spend a lot of time at the camp when we were growing up, he heard what was said. But then, Ahmabi wanted to hide the truth from him so much that she started a hundred different rumours about Mashti, to disguise the true one. Most of them were false, so of course Julan thought they all were. And, well, he loves her."

She shrugged.

"He just wanted to believe her. And of course he wanted to think that he was special, and not just some illegitimate outcast with no future. I mean who wouldn't?"

"And Han-Sashael never said anything?" Llovesi asked.

Shani shook her head. "Never. He knew of course, but he never let Julan suspect. I honestly don't know why. Perhaps it was Ahmabi's doing. But I used to see him watching Julan in the camp sometimes. When he thought Julan wouldn't see him. And it's too late now. Rakeem told me you spoke to him. So you know what Mashti did, in the end. She can never be forgiven. I should have told you this earlier. He might have believed it coming from you..."

Shani broke off again and turned her eyes away.

"Julan's…obviously crazy about you. But even then there was never anything to disprove Mashti's lies. Until now. He must realise he can't be the Nerevarine. I just don't know what he might do. You have to make Mashti talk. She has to know something. I'll wait here, it wouldn't do any good for her to see me."

Llovesi left Shani sitting at the bar in the tradehouse and teleported back to Julan's home camp.

Mashti was standing on the shore, the waves lapping her bare feet, the wind tousling her dark hair. She turned as Llovesi appeared and Llovesi saw that her face was streaked with tears. She seemed weary, almost-paper thin, most unlike the powerful witch that had once confronted Llovesi on this same beach.

"Llovesi," she said, and her voice cracked over her name, "I thought you might come. I suppose you want to know where Julan is."

"Mashti, what happened? Where has he gone?"

Mashti just shook her head tiredly and motioned for Llovesi to follow her into the yurt.

"The answer is, I don't know," Mashti replied, once inside. "He came here, he - I told him everything. He allowed me no choice in the matter. You know too, I can tell by your face. So. What would you have me tell you? I am sick of secrets now."

A million questions rose to the tip of Llovesi's tongue before she settled for one. "Why did you do it? Why did you make him think he was Nerevar?"

Mashti looked surprised. "Why? We were outcasts. His father would not, or could not acknowledge him. I could never return to my people. What kind of life could I offer my child, reviled and rejected? When I left the Urshilaku I took little with me except my knowledge of the prophecies. So I gave him a dream, a purpose. It was all I could give him. I had nothing else."

"But it wasn't true," Llovesi whispered.

"Not true?" Mashti repeated, and something of her old fire flared in her eyes. "You know nothing about truth. No, you speak of facts, and what are facts? Facts mean nothing to me. Julan could have become the Nerevarine, no matter what the prophecies say. There is always another prophecy, and if there is not, then you can make your own. He could have done anything, _anything_, that he put his mind to, if only he believed in himself. The fault is mine, for not making him believe enough."

"But he could have been killed! He nearly was, when we went to Red Mountain..."

But Mashti just shook her head forcefully. "No! I was sure that the Gods would protect him. And they did! They sent you... but now I think perhaps that the Gods have been laughing at me all along. I know that you are the one to bear the Moon-and-Star."

Her eyes flicked to the ring on Llovesi's hand, and Llovesi moved it behind her back, feeling uncomfortable.

"Perhaps my son and I have been mere tools to guide you towards your destiny," Mashti continued then shrugged, "or perhaps you will fall, like so many others have done. I no longer care about the prophecies. Whether I used them, or they used me, it is all over now. It is finished. I have lost the final thing that it was possible for me to lose. I have lost my son."

Her voice broke again on the last word, and Llovesi reached out and took her hand.

"Let me bring him back, Mashti. You must have some idea where he might have gone."

Mashti shook her head, seeming elsewhere. She looked right through Llovesi when she spoke again. "It matters little where he went. He will never return to me, I know that much. I have lost him forever. He never even raised his voice. His face as he left... he looked so much like his father, like Han-Sashael... I know he will not be coming back."

"Mashti, please-"

"I danced for him," Mashti said, her eyes fixed on some far place, "when he came with his men to make trade agreements with my father. All the girls, we performed a sacred dance, before the evening meal. We only called it sacred in order to justify its place as traditional, but we were right. It was sensual and beautiful, and what could be more sacred than that?

"He came to my yurt that very night. He was charming and handsome. Perhaps I was a fool, but I believed him when he said he would marry me. We left at dawn. By the time we arrived in the Grazelands I was deeply in love, and stunned by the beauty of my new home. I was happy, too happy. I soon discovered the truth.

"My love was already married. He wept, and begged my forgiveness. He had been captivated by my beauty, he had lost his wits, he would make things right, his wife did not understand him, he loved me. Male talk. But I was very young, and I loved him. And I could never return home. So I accepted everything he said.

"He told the tribe that I had come to train as a wise-woman. Ahmabi was suspicious, but she had no proof. I saw him in secret, whenever he could get away. I knew people were talking, but I cared little for their opinion. I was happy. But of course it could not last.

"I became pregnant, and we could no longer conceal the truth from his wife. I imagine you know the rest by now. He never said a word in my defence when she wove her lies to cast me out. Not a word."

She dropped Llovesi's hand suddenly, and looked round as if realising where she was. Then she crossed to a chest near the bedroll and rummaged inside it. She came back with a dress. A beautiful, cream, Ashlander dress, with delicate stitching, a frayed hem and an intricate appliqué sash. She turned it so Llovesi could see it better in the light of the fire.

"Look at this," Mashti whispered. "Once it was going to be my wedding dress. My sisters and I sewed it, when I was betrothed to my father's gulakhan, and I took it with me when I left with Sashael. Of course I never used it."

She made a sudden motion, as if she wanted to throw it onto the fire, but instead she thrust it at Llovesi.

"Here, you take the thing. I have kept it too long already, and it has nothing but sad memories. It's only a dress; someone else should wear it, and make new memories for it. Or throw it away, I care not."

Llovesi folded the dress and tucked it under her arm. "Thank you," she said, "I'm sorry for your story, really, but I do need to know-"

"Where Julan is." Mashti looked her dead in the eye, and Llovesi saw her, as she was, a woman, somehow still young yet seeming a thousand years old. "All right. Ask me again, Llovesi, and I will tell you what I can."

"Where is Julan, Mashti?"

"The last time he left me, when I told him to abandon that girl from the camp, he later told me he had been living in a cave to the southwest of here. I think he said it was west of the caves known as Dun-Ahhe, in the mountains near an outcast camp. Perhaps he is there, perhaps not. But before you go... He asked me to give you this."

Mashti slipped a torn piece of paper from her sash and handed it almost reluctantly to Llovesi. It was watermarked with tears.

"I don't know what it says, I never learnt to read. Take it and... I should confess something."

"Yes?"

"I had not intended to give you the note, nor to direct you. Why should I help one who, day by day, has drawn the affections and loyalty of my son from me?"

Llovesi blushed and opened her mouth.

"No, do not speak. I am not so poor a mother that I cannot read his heart in such matters. I have learnt from the past. When I made him choose between that Ahemmusa girl and myself, I thought to strengthen his loyalty to me, but... I miscalculated. I underestimated his attachment to her, and perhaps I underestimated him. I nearly lost him then, and now, now that I have truly lost him..."

She choked again, and her eyes welled up.

"But if I ever had the chance again," she continued thickly, "I would know better than to ask him to choose. I heard how he spoke of you, saw how he - bah!"

She turned her back to Llovesi, her shoulders shaking.

"Enough," she said, her voice muffled, "I have resolved to give up my spite, and I have aided you, have I not? Go then, and find him, if he will be found. Leave me."

"I'll bring him back, Mashti."

* * *

On the beach, Llovesi unfolded the note carefully as the wind threatened to rip it from her hands, and read:

_Llovesi,_

_Sorry for running off like that. I needed some ansers and well now I have them. I just need to figure out what to do with them._

_Dont worry or anything like that Im fine I just want to think. And dont think Im angry about you being nerevarine in a way I think I knew it all along. Or maybe I just knew I wasn't. Doesn't matter much now I suppose._

_Anyway looks like I wont be needing a trainer any more and you never did need me and least of all know. I know youll make a good Nerevar better than me anyway but that's not hard._

_Keep an eye on Sha for me wont you. And mother too I suppose funny how just when I find out she really is my mother I dont want to call her that any more._

_Good luck but you dont need it._

_J._

Llovesi dropped the note and stared out to sea as it fluttered towards the waves. In many ways it was the most mature, considered piece of communication she'd ever had from Julan, and that just made it hurt all the more. So he had said goodbye.

"Not yet, Julan," she whispered to the wind. "Not yet."

* * *

Thankful she had copied the map of Dry Camp Valley from Tussurradad as well as the one of the Valley of the Wind, Llovesi quickly hiked to Dun-Ahhe Caverns. Then she set her course west, ducking round the nearby Ashlander Camp, wanting to avoid a confrontation.

She reached an open rocky plateau, and then panic set in, for there was no sign of a nearby cave. Wondering if Mashti had simply sent her off on a wild chase, she turned this way and that, blindly searching, then she saw it.

Under a rocky outcrop in the side of the mountain, a door, covered in Bittergreen vines. Thanking Azura the weather was clear, she hurried over. But when she got closer, she saw that the vines had been cut back, and were broken around the edges of the door.

She pushed it with her shoulder and it opened easily. Inside it was cool and dark, eggs softly pulsated softly on the walls - the only luminescence aside from the usual cave mushrooms. An abandoned egg mine then. Clutching her dagger just in case, Llovesi made her way further into the cave.

She could hear water, and remembering what she had heard over the telepathy ring, set off in that direction.

"Julan!" she called, but of course there was no response besides the low moan of a kwama worker. She hurried down an algae-covered but otherwise stable set of wooden steps, only to find that the bottom of the cave was entirely flooded. She tried to cast water walking and cursed as the spell failed. She couldn't concentrate. Best to conserve her magicka in case she truly needed it. There was nothing for it, she would have to swim.

She stripped off her robe and boots, took off her pack, and waded through the water. The cold hit her like a slap, and she drew a sharp breath, but her worry over Julan kept her going.

She swam until she emerged into what looked like a cavern with no other exit. The only sounds were the drip of condensation from the ceiling, and a strange wheezing coming from somewhere above her, almost a death rattle.

She looked up. An Ancestor Ghost was hovering by a door. _Guarding_ the door. It looked down at her, the empty sockets in its leering skull searching her out, and it made a threatening motion with a skeletal arm.

Llovesi swallowed her fear and pulled herself onto the rocky ledge that led to the ghost, her muscles screaming with the effort after swimming in the icy water.

She advanced slowly, dripping and shivering, her dagger held in front of her cautiously.

"No," the ghost spoke as she approached, and its voice was like a coffin falling into a tomb, and strangely many-layered, "you shall not enter this place. Leave now."

"I'm looking for Julan Kaushibael," Llovesi said, wishing she sounded less afraid.

"He is ours now."

Llovesi felt something glacial slip down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold water.

"He's... dead?"

"He still walks the earth, but he is ours now. He will hear our words. He will do our bidding."

"Who _are_ you?"

"We are the ancestors of the Ahemmusa. For too long, he has ignored our cries for vengeance. For blood. But his mind is clear of the lies of his mother, and at last he can hear us. We have waited too long. But now he is ours. He will do our bidding."

"P-please," Llovesi said, her teeth chattering, "please, just let me talk to him-"

"No. He is ours now. He has no more need of lies and trickery."

"But I'm close to him! I can help him!"

The ghost paused for a long time, and Llovesi clutched her dagger, wondering if it would attack. Then it spoke again. "Yes. Perhaps you can help him, if you are close to him, but bring me some token of his that proves you truly are joined in closeness, then I will let you pass."

The ghost folded its arms over its gaping chest, its ethereal rags floating about its body, signalling the conversation closed.

Llovesi was at a loss for a moment. _Some token of his?... Truly joined in closeness... the telepathy ring!_

She felt stupid; she should have searched for it instantly. The egg mine, the scribs she had heard, it all made sense. She sheathed her dagger and dove into the water behind her, leaving the ghost behind.

She hurried back the way she had came, this time turning right at the door instead of left. Sure enough, the sounds of scribs became louder. They filled a low cave with a pool, tapping on the ground, and raising their heads inquisitively at her, then scuttling out of the way as she rushed in barefoot and panting, clutching at the stitch in her side.

She paused. How was she going to find the ring? She had a ring of detect enchantment she realised; Kaye from the Imperial Cult had given it to her months ago back when she was still doing tasks for them. But, and she cursed mentally, it was back in her pack in the other tunnel, buried beneath potions and other trinkets.

Instead she climbed into the pool and, taking a deep breath, sunk beneath the water and opened her eyes. The water was murky and dark, but the ring glowed softly and she saw it almost instantly underwater where she would have struggled from dry land.

She grabbed it, turned on her heel and sprinted back to the cavern where the ghost waited.

* * *

A few moments later, she was holding the two rings up side by side, explaining their purpose.

A transparent skeletal hand passed over hers, turning her skin with revulsion, but she let the ghost examine the rings.

"This ring... you say it is his, and this one is yours... and these allow you to communicate with each other?"

"Yes."

"Yes... I can sense his spiritual impression upon it. Very well. You may pass. But remember, he is ours now."

The ghost drew back from her, fading through the door in front, and leaving the path ahead clear to pursue.


	30. Family Business

**A/N: I've nearly finished editing the earlier chapters for typos etc! I'm sorry for putting something up that still had so many errors - I guess it stems partly from the fact that I have no beta, and when I error-check myself I tend to miss things. If anyone does spot any glaring errors, please do let me know!**

* * *

**_Chapter 29: Family Business_**

A thousand ghostly whispers filled the air as Llovesi ran down stone tunnels, searching desperately.

Ghosts moaned as she passed.

"... the dead take root beneath the soil, they grow with hate..."

"Please, tell me where Julan Kaushibael is!" she would shout back.

And always the response: "He is ours now."

Passageway after passageway, they all looked the same. Was she going in circles? And all the while the whispering, it made it hard to think...

"... the madness haunts the midnight watch, the empty terror stalks you..."

"... revenge will haunt the Godless day and night, the destined end awaits..."

After a while, she began to think she was hearing a new whisper entering into the chaos of voices. A horrible, urgent whisper.

"... Blood..."

She followed it frantically, her heart pounding.

The light changed, the purplish glow of the crystal studded walls became the amber glow of a camp fire.

She had emerged into a large room, where a crowd of ghosts were all converging on something that had collapsed in their midst.

Julan.

She watched in horror as they dove at him, passing their ragged hands through his body, howling in his ears.

"... the grinding scream of death and the stroke that hits the vein, the grief, the curse no man can bear..."

"... Blood..."

"... stroke for bloody stroke be paid! The one who acts must suffer…"

"Julan!" Llovesi shouted, and ran over, pushing her way through the ghosts, ignoring the way they set her skin on edge as she forced her way through their transparent masses.

He moaned and pushed himself upwards, staring around wildly.

"Llovesi? Is that y-argh! Gah, get _away!"_ A ghost swooped at him, its jaw impossibly wide, its teeth bared.

"Blood..." it groaned.

Julan tried to crawl away, wide-eyed and frantic, but the ghosts dragged at him, tripped him, pulled him back.

"Get _away_," Julan moaned, and seemed to see her again, "no, not you, _them_! They won't get out of my head, make them _get out of my head_, make them – argh!"

They dove upon him again, and Llovesi lost him to the mass of opaque, skeletal figures, howling and shrieking.

"... It is the law; when blood of slaughter hits the ground, it wants more blood..."

"Blood...!"

"Stop it!" Llovesi yelled, but her voice was lost in the din. "Stop it!"

_I have to get their attention_...

She threw herself into their midst and let all her magicka free. Let herself explode, but with careful control. The magicka flowed from within and she wreathed herself in elaborate flames.

The ghosts were blown back against the walls of the cave, and she glared at them.

Julan whimpered from the ground under the fire shield she had thrown up, his hands over his head.

"Listen to me," she said, her voice low with menace, fire dancing over her body, "I said: Stop. It."

The ghosts seemed to hesitate, and a low rustle passed through them. Then one floated forwards.

"Earthwalker, why are you addressing us? This is clan business, family business. You have no place in this."

"I do," Llovesi said, "because you're hurting him."

"Yes, we are hurting him. Because he will not listen. So we make him listen. Until he agrees to carry out vengeance for our kin."

"You're not making him listen! You're breaking his mind!"

"His mind matters little. What matters is blood – blood shared and spilled. We called to him in his dreams, but the lies of his mother made him unable to listen. Now he can hear us, but still he resists!"

Llovesi was so stunned she almost dropped her spell. "You were the voices in his dreams...?"

She thought of all the nights he had tossed and turned beside her, and her resolve hardened again.

"Why does blood matter?" she asked.

"We demand blood in payment for that of our fallen brother, Han-Sashael. He lies unburied in the Daedra caves, cruelly slain through a woman's evil and jealous love. She must pay and his bones must be returned to the tribe for burial. He _must_ do our bidding. We are his ancestors. His duty of vengeance is clear."

"Then let me tell him. You are not succeeding."

The ghost did not reply, and again that same rustle passed around the room.

"Very well," it said finally. "But know this – if he resists, we will return and he will find no rest until he obeys us."

They vanished suddenly, and the air was silent.

Julan moaned again, and Llovesi dropped both the flames and the fire shield. He sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose, and she helped him to his feet.

"They've... gone," he said slowly, his breathing returning to normal. "Did you... oh... you've... saved me again, haven't you?"

He avoided her eyes.

"So yes... thanks... again."

"Your mother was not kidding when she threatened to set the 'thousand vengeful ancestors' on me, was she?" Llovesi said, trying to lighten the situation. But Julan's face fell.

"Oh, Llovesi, she murdered him, it's all true! I heard the story that the scout told of course, but I never believed it. But she did, they said so! The ancestors told me! My mother killed him, killed Han-Sashael, the Ashkhan, my father!"

He seemed close to hysterics. Llovesi shook him in alarm. "Julan? Calm down."

He looked down, his hair falling into his eyes.

"They want me to kill my mother! To avenge a father I never even knew! This is crazy, Llovesi! But... it's her fault I never knew him. She's lied to me my whole life! She murdered him! Maybe she deserves to die! But... she's still my mother. I can't do this! Can I?"

"I can't tell you that, Julan. But we'll think of something."

"But what? They say they won't leave me alone! It's always been them in my dreams, Llovesi, the voices! But I couldn't understand them! I thought it was the Sixth House, because they were trying to stop me completing my mission. The one on the mountain I thought was Dagoth Ur... I-I think maybe it was my father. Trying... trying t-to stop... me... g-getting myself k-killed..."

He collapsed into weak, dry sobs, and Llovesi pulled him to her, held him close.

"It'll be okay," she said, stroking his hair.

He hugged her back. "Thanks," he said into her shoulder, "I'll be fine in a minute."

He pulled away and took several deep breaths. "I just don't know what to do," he said. "Why is there always someone trying to control me? Why can't I choose how to live my own life?"

Llovesi squeezed his hand. "Come on, let's get out of here. We can decide later. Here's your telepathy ring."

He looked guilty as he took it from her. "Thanks. I didn't think I would need it any more. So, I... uh, yeah, sorry."

"Right, let's go. But, uh, through the tunnels. I left my pack there. And my robe. And my boots... my spears..."

He looked her up and down then smiled slightly as he reached over and plucked a long string of algae from her hair.

"Well, I suppose we make quite the pair. Come on then, Oh gods, what am I going to do? Who knew having family would be so complicated?"

* * *

Night had passed and the blushing skies of dawn were peeking above the horizon when Llovesi and Julan teleported to the beach by his home camp.

He sighed heavily. "So, what now? I don't feel ready for this, but then, I'm not sure I ever will."

Llovesi, who had been thinking it would be less awkward for her to wait outside automatically replied.

"Well, if you need me..."

"Please."

She took his hand, and together they entered the yurt.

Mashti looked as if she hadn't slept all night either. She leapt up as they entered, her face pale and drawn but dry.

"Julan!" she cried. "My child, you must-"

"Be silent," Julan said firmly, with such force that Mashti seemed to reel back. "I 'must' nothing. I'm here for answers from you, and nothing else. I know you murdered my father. But I want to hear it from you. Why you did it. And why I shouldn't kill you where you stand."

His hand rested upon the hilt of his sword. Mashti looked at it coldly, then her eyes flicked to his face.

"So. That is why you have come. You ask me why I murdered Han-Sashael? I shall tell you everything you wish. But you already know everything, do you know not? If you know that I killed him, then surely you know the rest? Please tell all the sins of your wicked mother since you know them so well."

Her voice was full of bite and bile, and Llovesi felt Julan tense beside her, but he kept his voice calm.

"I know what the scout said happened. I never believed it could be true, until now."

"But now you believe it," Mashti said, "and you no longer believe your mother."

"You speak nothing but lies. Lies to hide your shame and your failure. Everything they said about you was true, yet I defended you. But you... you are despicable. You lured him to his death in some cave-"

Mashti snorted disdainfully, cutting across Julan. "Some cave? The cave is known as Sanit. It lies south of here. Its tunnels run deep, even running beneath Red Mountain. It is the source of the Daedra and Corprus beasts invading these lands. Sashael... he was so bold, so reckless. Drunk with the thrill of the chase, perhaps he thought he could drive back the beasts beneath the mountain, and finally make his people safe..."

"He was lured there by you!" Julan roared. He had finally snapped. He drew his sword and pointed it at Mashti on the word 'you'. She watched him calmly, her face betraying nothing.

"I know you can summon Hungers," Julan continued to shout, "and make them obey you! You were seen approaching the cave!"

"Yes," Mashti replied. "I was watching. I scarcely believed he could be so foolish..."

"Shut up! You _killed_ the guard! Then you entered the cave to finish the job!"

"Did you really kill the guard?" Llovesi asked, making both of them jump as if they had forgotten she was there. It seemed to her to be an important detail; Rakeem said he had seen her do it. Everything else, well, there was strong evidence, but no eyewitnesses...

"I did," Mashti said, and Llovesi's heart sank. "He refused to let me come near him. His fear made him rash... I was forced to defend myself. I had to follow Sashael, to stop him. I had seen the things that dwelt deep in that cave. There was far worse than Hungers in there."

Julan gave a humourless snort. "Oh, so you went in to _save _him? Hah! Funny how they all ended up dead, then, isn't it? And you came out without a scratch!"

For the first time, Mashti's resolve seemed to waver.

"I-I was too late," she whispered. "His men were dead, and he-he had gone deeper in, lost in a haze of slaughter. Killing all in his path, unaware that he was the only one still standing. I ran and ran through caves of corpses, but deep beneath the mountain the tunnels were dark and maze-like, and I could not find him. I heard him, dying, but I could not... I never even found his body."

Silence reigned in the yurt. Julan lowered his sword a notch.

Finally, Mashti spoke again, and her voice was hoarse. "I shut myself in my yurt for a week. I said that I was praying to Azura, so that my son might not know of my grief."

Julan lowered his sword more. "I... remember that," he said slowly.

Mashti seemed bereft of any more emotion. "It is the truth. I am sick of lies, and now it matters not. He is lost to me, and now you too are lost to me. Nothing matters to me now."

Julan took a step towards Mashti, who watched him unflinchingly.

"Perhaps I might believe you," he said, "but... why did you never tell me, while he lived? He was my father, and I never knew him. How could you deny me that chance?"

"Deny?" Mashti asked bitterly. "What have I denied you? The chance to be rejected and reviled, as I have been! If you would tell me of my sins, then tell of his as well. He denied you, not I, he refused you as his son, I merely spared you the pain of knowing it. I loved you too much to make you endure what I suffered. And now you truly know all I have to tell you. You may kill me now, if that is your wish, I have no reason to live any longer."

Time seemed to hang still for a moment. Then Julan sheathed his sword and turned to Llovesi.

"Come on, Llovesi," he said, "let's go take a walk on the beach. I think I understand what I have to do now."

They left the yurt swiftly and silently, Mashti staring blankly after them with hollow eyes.

Julan took a deep breath of the morning air and turned to Llovesi.

"I have to return my father's bones to the tribe," he said simply.

"Yes... I meant to say, the ancestors-"

"I know," he continued calmly, "they told me. But I still wasn't ready to listen. I understand now. My father's body lies deep in the tunnels beneath Red Mountain. His spirit cannot re-join the tribal ancestors, and so he cannot protect the tribe. I have to return his bones, so they can be properly buried. Only then can the Ahemmusa regain their strength, with the support of his powerful spirit."

"But what about vengeance? The ancestors demanded blood..."

Julan frowned and turned his gaze to the sea. "I'm still not sure about that. Perhaps if I find where my father died, there will be evidence of what happened, and some way of proving if Mother's story is true."

"And what then, if... she did kill him?"

"Then... I'll do whatever I have to do. It's my duty. You see, I realised, I'm not the Nerevarine and I never was. But there is one thing that's been true all along – I have a sacred mission to save my people. And now, I know how. But," and he turned back to her and looked her in the eye, "I think it's time we talked about you."

"Me?"

"About what you will do, now that you are the Nerevarine."

"Ah."

Llovesi looked down at her hand, at Moon-and-Star, as if she'd forgotten she was still wearing the ring. It still felt like a dream if she was honest but then... being honest, what difference did it make anyway? She was still following Caius's last orders, becoming the Nerevarine, but... was she following orders though? Azura had chosen her. That was a shock. That made it a lot more real. It made her assignments for Caius seem like mere silly games. Now she felt far more involved. Now she was the Nerevarine. Now she was legitimate, apparently. But she could still fail... She snapped out of her confused reverie to see Julan smiling gently at her. He took her hand.

"It's really okay, you know," he said, "I meant what I said in my letter. You did get that, didn't you? Everything just seems to make more sense now."

"But it doesn't! Or... no, it makes too much sense! I was asked to play along, and it turns out I don't have to... Or... I don't know, I still don't think I understand... but I'm glad you do. If you have any advice, I'd welcome it. Seriously."

Julan smiled. "Of course. I must say, you're actually taking it better than I did. I guess it really is your destiny. I always thought there was something special about you. You're going to be a great hero. I don't think you're going to need my help. Still, I'm going to offer it to you anyway. You were ready to follow me up Red Mountain once, and may Sheogorath take me if I won't do the same for you!"

Llovesi felt her heart lift. "So... you still want to be with me? You threw away the ring..."

"That was before I knew what I had to do. I never said I didn't want to help. I just didn't think you would _want_ my help. I'm still not sure why you came looking for me: you have your own destiny now, and you won't need me to fulfil it."

"I won't need you Julan. But I'll want you. I'll always want you because... I'm in love with you!"

There: she'd said it. She hadn't realised it until she'd been racing across the Ashlands, heart pounding, fearing him dead. But she knew it now as certain fact.

Julan stared at her, dumbfounded, then a slow smile swept across his face and he hugged her close.

"I love you too. More than I can say. You're the best thing ever to happen to me. If not for you, I'd be another sad, failed Incarnate ghost in that cave of Azura. You make me happy and that's... it's not something I ever expected to be. I'm sorry I left, I just couldn't imagine that you would still... once you knew who you were..."

"It's okay. Just don't go leaving me like that again!"

"Never, I swear it. It scares me to Oblivion and back that you're going to have to go through this, but I'll be there to make it easier. You won't have to do this alone."

She kissed him then, clumsily but eagerly, her eyes starting to tear up. They stood like that on the beach for a while, the wind whipping their hair and the rising sun bathing them in pale light.

"We can't do this all day," Julan whispered finally. "I have to save my tribe, and you have to save all of Morrowind!"

Llovesi nodded, and they turned south, walking from sand, to stone, to grass. Into the hills and towards Sanit.


	31. Many Regrets

**A/N: I've now finished editing my earlier chapters - no need to re-read them, it was just to comb for typos/missing words sort of thing. Also, a notification of sorts: there will only be two more chapters this week, as I'll be out of town for a week or so come Thursday. Happy Sun's Height everyone!**

* * *

_**Chapter 30: Many Regrets**_

Julan shoved the wooden door hard with his shoulder and it creaked open, revealing an almost abnormally dark cave beyond. Almost abnormally dark, but lit by clumps of melting red candles. The familiar, skin-crawling feeling of dread hit Llovesi as she stepped over the threshold, but she was getting used to it now, if such a thing was possible.

Julan looked completely furious. "What?" he shouted. "This isn't Daedra! This is Sixth House! I can't believe those _bastards_ are building their filthy altars over my father's bones! I'm going to gut each and every last one of these lunatics!"

Some Ash Zombies, no doubt attracted by Julan's yells, shambled over, but they found arrows in their throats before they could go more than a few paces. Julan ran forward, another arrow already notched, and Llovesi chased after him.

They explored deeper into the cave, but still found no Daedra. Instead they found a shrine, guarded by a group of Dreamers, who rounded on them with angry cries and spiked clubs.

It was quick, and messy. Llovesi had heard of Nord Barbarians who fought naked and had a fearsome reputation, but the Dreamers were nothing in comparison, too insane to even put up a defence, driven by their fervent worship of Dagoth Ur. She felt sorry for them.

They found no other exit from the shrine that didn't just lead back the way they had come.

"Maybe there's a trapdoor or something we missed?" Llovesi said hopefully as they walked back to explore the shrine. The bones had to be in this cave somewhere. They couldn't fail.

"I hope so," Julan replied shortly. "This is so frustrating! Wait, what's that?"

A banner behind the shrine fluttered faintly, and behind they could make out a crevasse in the cave wall, wide enough for a person to comfortably slip through.

Llovesi pulled back the banner, and felt warm air on her face. She could dimly make out a reddish glow on the other side of the short passage. Darker, deeper caves.

"Looks like this is it then," she said, ripping the banner down. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

They emerged onto a dark rocky ledge overlooking a cave. The glow, it turned out, was coming from red mushrooms sprouting from the floor and walls, of a kind that Llovesi had never seen before. The floor was also littered with weapons, and bones. And Daedra.

"This is more like it," Julan whispered next to her from their vantage point. "These are Daedra caves all right. But we need to go deeper I think, my father died deep beneath the mountain, away from the others."

He notched an arrow and let it fly, catching a Clannfear in the throat. Llovesi jumped down into the cave to take on the Golden Saint. A Hunger appeared in the mouth of a nearby tunnel and ran over, screeching, its claws held out, to join in the fray. Llovesi and Julan worked together; the Daedra were tough, but ultimately also easily taken care of.

Julan jumped down next to Llovesi, holding his bow carefully in front of him.

"Let's check that passage, where the Hunger came from," he said. "Seems like their presence in this cave is important somehow, thinking about what mother said."

"Good idea," Llovesi said. "Hang on..." and she collected some of the red mushrooms from the floor. Walking over to the passageway, she crushed one against the wall, so glowing lumps of mushroom clung there, looking disturbingly like human flesh.

"Well, at least this way we'll know where we've been," she said. "Mashti did say it was like a maze, and dark."

They wandered this way and that, going deeper and deeper, retracing their steps, always marking the way they'd come, but they found nothing, save a few Daedra, most of them Hungers.

After a few hours, they were hot, sweaty and annoyed. Julan slammed his fist against the rocky wall in frustration.

"This is hopeless! I've failed!"

Llovesi didn't know what to say. "Maybe we should head back to the first cave," she suggested, at a loss. "Maybe there was another passage there?"

But as they made their way back, they found a passage they hadn't been down before. It led them deep, deeper than the others, past bubbling pools of lava. They raced down it, feeling hope returning.

Eventually, the tunnel opened into a larger cave, with a great pool of lava taking up almost half the available space. On the other side of the pool was one of the strangest things Llovesi had ever seen.

A great hole in the wall, through which she could dimly make out another dark cave. Dimly, because this large entrance was covered by a swirling purple barrier, dense and nearly opaque.

She ran over to examine it. Reaching out a hand, she hesitated a moment then tapped it. It was perfectly solid, and slightly cold, like ice.

"Llovesi, look out!"

She didn't even have time to turn. A Hunger had sprung from behind some rocks and was on her, driving her back. She struggled with it, her back against the strange barrier. Then suddenly the barrier was gone, she felt it melt away behind her, and both she and the Hunger tumbled through into the new cave.

She fumbled her spear, kicked the Hunger away forcefully, trying to keep its long claws from her face. Then, finally getting a good grip on her spear, she pinned it against the wall, impaling it.

"Uh, Llovesi...?" Julan had joined her in the cave, his face pale.

"What? I'm fine, just a few scratches, honestly." She wiped a trickle of blood from her forehead and winced.

"No, Llovesi, I really think you should turn around..."

So she did.

_Ah._

Through a fog of rising panic, she vaguely heard Mashti's words echo in her head: "... _I had seen the things that dwelt deep in that cave. There was far worse than Hungers in there..."_

It stood there, its back to them, easily fifty feet tall, stooped to fit, almost as if it had grown large waiting here and now the cave now longer accommodated it.

A giant Hunger, the biggest creature she had ever seen. The spikes on its arms were as long as her spears. Its leathery skin was tight against its bones; with every deep rattling breath it took they threatened to pierce it. It was marked with strange lumps and scars, and it dawned horribly on Llovesi that they were weapons, embedded in its flesh.

Then it turned, scraping its head against the ceiling and dislodging dust and rocks, and saw them.

It lowered its great face to their level and roared, showing its awful gaping mouth, its serrated fangs, and enveloping them in its dank breath.

Llovesi and Julan took one last look at each other, each sure that the other's terrified expression must mirror their own, then attacked.

Lunging, stabbing, dodging its great arms, sliding beneath its tail to attack from behind. It seemed they were making no more impression on the beast than a dartwing makes on an Ogrim. It took them so much effort avoiding the creature's attacks they barely has a chance to land their own. Surely they were merely prolonging their own deaths.

Then the Hunger swiped at Julan with its tail but missed, landing instead in the lava. It howled, shaking more dust from the ceiling. Its tail was blistered red, and Julan drove his sword into it, causing the creature to shriek again and sway.

This gave Llovesi an idea.

"Julan," she shouted, "drive it back into the lava!"

They resumed attacking, but this time their attacks were calculated to annoy it. They aimed for the feet, forcing the Hunger to step back. It aimed kicks at them, but they rolled then ran back and continued, and it couldn't reach them underneath itself.

Slowly, but surely, it was working. The creature took step after step backwards trying to reach them, seemingly unaware that it was headed for the lava pool. Then it stepped back one last time, and its clawed foot met lava instead of stone.

It howled in pain and fell down into the pool. There was a terrible sound, and the smell of burning flesh.

"We've done it, it's dead!" Llovesi shouted.

Too soon. The creature reared one last time. Its skin had sloughed off, revealing muscle and sinew, blood running freely from its wounds. It struck out, catching Llovesi and sending her flying across the cavern. She slammed into the wall with enough force to break bones, and everything went black.

* * *

"Llovesi... Llovesi..."

A voice, calling from far away. She tried to listen to it. Then a bright light. She wanted to snatch it away, it was hurting her eyes, but her arms felt like lead.

She felt a warm hand on her forehead and finally forced her eyes open. It felt as though they'd been nailed shut.

"Julan..."

"Oh, Azura's Star, you're alive!" He hugged her and she felt dampness on her cheek. He'd been crying.

"What happened? How long was I out?"

"Nearly too long. That thing, when it threw you against the wall, it broke your spine. And both your legs, and other things I think. I used all my magicka healing you. I thought I'd lost you."

Llovesi got to her feet shakily, and examined her limbs, noticing ugly new scars. She tried not to think about her bones splintering through her skin. She ached all over; her breath felt short in her chest.

"So it's really dead?"

"It really is."

She noticed a new sword at Julan's hip. He saw her looking and unsheathed it for her to see. It was a long steel katana, slightly rusted, and engraved on the handle. Engraved with a name: _Han-Sashael_.

"It was buried in the roof of the creature's mouth," Julan said. "As for how it got there, I think I can ask him myself..."

Llovesi confused, followed where Julan was pointing. Then she saw him. Standing on a raised stone platform above the lava pool, just through the archway into the next cave. The ghost of Han-Sashael.

He was standing over his own skeleton, a proud looking Ashlander with piercings and silver hair swept back over his shoulders, dressed in Bonemold armour. He looked both young and old at the same, but most of all, he looked uncannily like Julan. He laughed as they approached, Julan supporting Llovesi, and, like the ghosts in the Cavern of the Incarnate, his voice sounded as if he were shouting over a great distance.

"Hah! Han-Julan!" He raised a hand then said something fast and incomprehensible.

"What?" Llovesi whispered. "Julan, what did he say?"

"You do not understand me, Han-Julan," Han-Sashael said, looking them both up and down. "You are no son of mine, then, who no longer speaks the language of his people!"

Julan blinked slowly, then turned to Llovesi. "He said: 'what took you so long?'"

"Oh, so you do still remember some of your culture, do you? Ai, these young ones of the tribe, all speaking the tongue of the n'wah, talking like outlanders, forgetting the language of their ancestors."

"I'm... I'm just a bit out of practice, that's all."

But Han-Sashael shook his head with a rueful smile. "Ai, such a generation we have upon us. No respect for the tribe. No respect for the ancestors. Leave their father's bones to rot in a cave for three years, his soul trapped, unable to join with the tribal spirits. How will the tribe survive, with children such as this?"

Julan looked crestfallen. "You're right, I failed you. I'm sorry."

Llovesi couldn't take it anymore. "What?" she shouted. "Julan didn't fail you, you failed him! He never even knew you were his father!"

Han-Sashael acknowledged her for the first time; he looked at her coldly, his grin vanishing. "You shall not judge me, outlander. There are others here who have that task. Such as my son here, he has the right to demand those answers from me."

"No," Julan said quietly, and Llovesi stared at him. "I demand nothing. I understand how it was; you made a mistake – a brief affair, an unwanted pregnancy. What could you do but deny it? Your honour could not be stained by such a thing, your wife was too respected – and you had her feelings to consider. You could not shame the woman you loved by raising another's son as your own, while she remained childless. I cannot blame you. It was a mistake, and you dealt with it as you had to."

"A mistake?" Han-Sashael repeated, and nodded. "Yes, I made a terrible mistake. I married the woman my parents wanted me to, because she was a most religious woman, a respected servant of Boethiah, although I did not love her as she loved me. And when she threatened to summon her Daedric lord to destroy you and your mother, I made a deal with her.

"She would let you live, even allow you into the camp, so long as I never named you son, never even spoke your name. Another mistake. I see now I was a fool to think she would harm you, since she would lose her hold over me, and any little love I held for her would be destroyed. But in my folly and panic, I swore binding oaths to the Gods and the ancestors, staking the very safety of the tribe.

"It was always my plan to tell you. When you were a man and had nothing to fear from Ahmabi and her threats. But it is not an easy thing to do, after nearly twenty years... and I had sworn oaths that were dangerous to break. So I hesitated, like a fool.

"But then, your Shani came to me, weeping, and told me of your mother's plan for you. That you were to go to Red Mountain and defeat the devil. That you had to know the truth before it was too late. I sent for you, but you were nowhere to be found. So I went to Ahmabi, and demanded that she release me from my oaths. I no longer cared about her threats. She obeyed me, or, she let me think so.

"No doubt she prayed to Boethiah that very night. What did she pray for, I wonder? I cannot think she intended my death, as, for all her faults, she loved me. But the Daedra interpret requests as it suits them, for their own amusement. She received the trap that ended my life the very next day."

Han-Sashael paused in his speech and a heavy silence filled the cave. Julan's eyes were shining with tears. Then, Sashael spoke again, and his voice was sad and slow.

"I have made many mistakes in my life. Many, many regrets. But loving your mother, and fathering you, those things I have never ever regretted. It was the most joy I knew, even if it brought the most sorrow. And now you are here, fulfilling my greatest hopes for you. You will return my bones, and save the Ahemmusa. Take them, and release me from this place. My spirit will no longer retain this mind, and these memories. I shall become one with the ancestors."

Han-Sashael reached out a ghostly hand and placed it on Julan's shoulder; Julan reached for it there, his hand sinking through his father's, tears slipping down his face.

"Farewell, Han-Julan," Han-Sashael said. "You will serve the Ahemmusa better than I did. One last thing, before my soul is finally released. Tell your mother, tell Mashti, that if I could keep but one memory of this life, to hold with me always, it would be of her dancing..."

His voice trailed off as they stared into each other's eyes. Julan seemed to hesitate indefinitely, as if he wanted to put off the moment when his father would disappear. But it had to happen. And when he leant down and touched the first bone, Han-Sashael winked out of existence, as if he had never been there.

Julan collected the bones in silence, picking up each one almost reverentially. Llovesi, leaning on her spear, slipped her cloak from her shoulders and handed it to him without a word. He wrapped the bones carefully, then turned back the way they had come, Llovesi following him.

By the look of the sky, it was late afternoon when they emerged back into the Grazelands. Julan took a deep breath and turned to Llovesi.

"Well, I got what I came for, didn't I? I got the bones. We should return them to Sinnammu Mirpal, the wise woman, so she can prepare the proper burial rituals." He turned to go.

"Julan..." Llovesi hesitated over the question she was going to ask, almost fearing the answer. "Julan, are you okay?"

He paused, and offered her a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm fine... just tired. I thought I would feel different about this, somehow. I thought if I returned his bones, I'd feel like I was really his son, or something. And, he even spoke to me, and said the kinds of things a father should say but... he's still not my father. Just this man I hardly knew. But I think it will be all right. I was too hard on mother, but I'll talk to her about everything later. We'll work things out. So yes, I'm okay. Thanks for asking."

They set off for the camp in the afternoon sun and Llovesi noticed that, even as he carried the bundle in his arms like precious treasure, Julan's step was lighter, as if he had had a great burden lifted from his shoulders. Maybe this would be the start of something better. For him, his mother, and his people.


	32. A Great Ashkhan

_**Chapter 31: A Great Ashkhan**_

Ashlanders hissed with disapproval as they walked through the camp. Julan kept his head high, ignoring them, and led the way over to the wise woman's yurt. Before Llovesi could lift the entrance to let them both in, a voice called out across the camp:

"There you both are! I was so worried!"

It was Shani. She ran over, also ignoring the stares they were attracting.

"After you didn't come back to the tradehouse, I came back here, Llovesi," she explained breathlessly. "I wanted to check if anyone here had seen you, but they hadn't... what have you got there, Julan?"

Llovesi and Julan exchanged a glance; Julan was clearing itching to talk to Sinnammu Mirpal as soon as possible. But he turned back to Shani and explained everything quickly, finally apologising for having worried her. Shani listened, her eyes growing wider and wider.

"Oh Julan!" she exclaimed. "You don't have to apologise for anything! I think I understand, but I can hardly believe it! I believe _you_ though, so get inside and talk to Sinnammu, go!"

She nudged him in the direction of the tent. They didn't need telling twice, and walked inside. There was a frail looking Dunmer woman warming her hands by the fire. Her face was deeply lined and framed by long snowy-white hair. She gasped as they entered.

"Julan? What are you doing here?"

Julan laid Llovesi's cloak on the ground and unrolled it gently so the wise woman could see its contents.

"Sinnammu," he said, straightening up, "I'm returning the bones of my father, of Han-Sashael."

Sinnammu gathered them up carefully and gave Julan an appraising look. "I shall prepare the necessary rituals as soon as possible. This is a wonderful thing you have done for the tribe. You must tell me everything that has passed."

So they explained the story for the second time in the past few minutes. Sinnammu listened, nodding gravely.

"So. This is how it was," she said when they had finished. Her voice was full of a cold fury, and Llovesi realised just how much power might lie behind the old woman's withered appearance.

"And we blamed Mashti all this time," Sinnammu continued, "I believe you, but there are many in the tribe who will not. Ahmabi is known as a religious woman, and a loving wife. You must make her confess her crime, if you would prove Mashti Kaushibael innocent. She is easily angered, and if you provoke her, she may admit all. I shall listen outside, to bear witness."

So they left the tent in the company of the wise woman. By now a crowd was starting to draw, watching them curiously as they entered the Ashkhan's yurt. Shani was whispering urgently to any Ashlander who would listen, and the looks of shock and outrage were growing by the minute.

Ahmabi was sitting reading on her bedroll. In the light of what Llovesi now knew, the old woman seemed somehow more pitiful, her features were proud despite her stooped frame, no doubt twisted by years of bitter loneliness. She jumped to her feet immediately, holding the book in front of her like a weapon.

"What is _he_ doing here?" she yelled, bearing down on them, seeming to fill the yurt despite her tiny frame. "How _dare_ you come in here! What do you want from me? Go away, I don't want to talk to you!"

She threw the book at their feet and turned her back defiantly. Julan nodded at Llovesi decisively. _Time to provoke her then_.

"You have no choice in this, Ahmabi," Julan said coldly. "I know Han-Sashael was my father, and I know about your little bargain."

"And we know how your husband really died," Llovesi added.

Ahmabi spun round, her face aghast. "NO! You... how can you dare!"

"Oh, stop your false outrage you withered old hag," Julan said.

"How could you do that to your husband, you faithless woman?" Llovesi asked, trying to be as offensive as possible. "You murdered him, and let Mashti take the blame!"

Ahmabi let out a scream of incoherent rage, and advanced towards them, her hair winding itself loose from her bun.

"How _dare_ you say that!" she shrieked, finding words. "She _did_ kill him! She tried to _take_ him from _me_!"

On the word 'me' she pushed Julan, not hard, but they stumbled back out of the yurt: Ahmabi borne by her rage, Julan letting it take her. Llovesi darted out after them to see that the entire camp had gathered round to listen, enclosing them in an arena-like circle.

Ahmabi didn't seem to have noticed. She continued to scream in Julan's face, a bubble of spit bursting in the corner of her mouth.

"She _forced_ me to act, to protect my marriage. To demand of my Lord that He carry out my bidding, as an act of self-defence!"

"So what did you pray for," Llovesi asked, aware of the many eyes upon them, "the night you brought about your husband's death?"

Ahmabi whirled round to her, her eyes quite mad. "I prayed for _vengeance_!" she growled. "I prayed that _witch_ might know half the pain I felt when he betrayed me for her, and the only joy left to me in the blighted world is that, in that at least, I succeeded!"

"The truth is out," Llovesi replied calmly, "the ancestors want your blood, Ahmabi."

"Curse the ancestors," she screamed, and a low gasp travelled around their audience. "Curse the ancestors, just as I long ago cursed the Gods! And curse you both, for I will not give you the satisfaction of taking my life."

She drew a lethal looking dagger from inside her robe suddenly, and Llovesi and Julan reached for their weapons instinctively. But Ahmabi pointed the dagger towards herself and raised her eyes towards the sky.

"Lord Boethiah!" she called. "If you care anything for one who was once your servant, avenge me!"

And she drove the dagger up suddenly, sliding it beneath her ribs. A dark red stain spread across her chest and she collapsed to her knees.

A collective sigh seemed to go up around the camp, and the group drew back slightly. Llovesi and Julan however, moved closer to Ahmabi's body. Something very strange was happening. Something horrible.

Her skin looked as if it were bubbling. Her corpse jerked suddenly and there was a bright light from her wound. Her body began to twist and deform, as if all her limbs were tying to pull away from one another. There were some loud cracking sounds as her bones snapped and rearranged. Her skin was getting greyer and greyer, growing hard.

Suddenly, her body pulled itself apart, growing and mutating rapidly. There were screams from behind Llovesi and Julan as everyone realised what had happened. Where there had once been the corpse of Ahmabi stood three Hungers and they leapt forward to attack.

Shock gave the Daedra an advantage, and Llovesi and Julan were weary from days spent in caves without sleep, Llovesi weaker and still aching from her many injuries. The Daedra were on them before they could properly react to the horror show they had just witnessed.

However, the Hungers were also surrounded by the entire Ahemmusa Camp. They fell to the ground dead, stuck with arrows, before any of them could lay a claw on Llovesi or Julan. Two hunters stepped forward and dragged the Hungers' bodies away. Everyone else turned their gaze to Llovesi and Julan, and waited. Llovesi could see Shani in the crowd, lowering a bow, her eyes wide but a smile blooming on her face.

Sinnammu Mirpal stepped forward from the crowd.

"So it is done," she said, and her cracked voice echoed around the camp in the silence. "Ahmabi will be mourned, but what has happened is for the best. We cannot keep such poison in the camp. Tell Mashti that her exile is lifted, and you are both welcome home."

A great cheer went around the camp; Shani was whooping with enthusiasm.

Sinnammu smiled and turned to Llovesi.

"Llovesi... yes do not be surprised that I know your name," she said, for Llovesi's mouth had fallen open. "News of the prophecies travels fast among Velothi's people. Llovesi, if you are truly Nerevarine, then our prayers and hopes go with you. For now, I shall name you as a Champion of the Ashlanders. And Julan... I think they will call you a great Ashkhan someday."

"Julan for Ashkhan!" somebody shouted behind them, and the camp erupted into cheers again.

Julan choked slightly, and Sinnammu bowed her head and beckoned them to follow her to a more private spot.

"I can see from his face that he does not think I am serious," she said to Llovesi when the crowd had dispersed slightly. "But I have been thinking. Tell me Julan, why did you go to fetch your father's bones?"

"So that his spirit might return to protect the tribe, and help us become strong once more."

Sinnammu nodded. "Yes, and you succeeded, but Sashael's bones were not the cause. You carry your father's spirit, Julan. I have known you since you were a child, and you always had his fire, his determination, and his fierce loyalty to the tribe, even when the tribe rejected you. I once thought you shared his lack of wisdom, but now I believed that has changed. Perhaps it is your mother's gift. But no, I rather think it is something all your own, that you have hard-won through bitter experience. In time, we shall name you Han-Julan, and in later years they will call you a great Ashkhan, greater even than your father was.

"But I know that you are still young, you want to travel, and you have obligations to fulfil. I shall watch over the camp until you are ready. And now," and she smiled as the sound of music from the centre of the camp reached their ears, "I believe the Ahemmusa wish to celebrate with you, if you will join us."

The sun was reclining low in the sky, and the campfire had been lit in the centre of the camp, its warm glow mirroring the low light in the heavens. The music was coming from a small group sat by this fire, playing drums and lutes and singing with jubilatory voices.

Children had been allowed to stay up and ran through the crowd, giggling and chasing each other. Ashlanders were roasting meat on a spit, and the smell of spices and charcoal filled the air. Soon some of them returned with barrels of shein and matze from Vos, and tankards were being handed round.

A slight hush fell as Julan and Llovesi joined the crowd. Shani came up to them first.

"So," she said, a twinkle in her eye, "you're our next Ashkhan? Azura's Star, we're doomed!"

"Thanks for your ever present faith in me, Sha," Julan replied dryly and a laugh went around the camp.

This seemed to be everyone's cue to swarm, and suddenly Julan was practically carried away by well-wishers, and the curious, all seeking answers, explanations or wanting to exchange friendly words and apologies.

Julan turned back and grinned apologetically at Llovesi. She smiled and let him go, twisting the telepathy ring on her hand.

_Good luck..._

_Thanks..._

Still using her spear as support, she limped over to sit with Shani on a rug near the fire, and they grabbed some matze and food.

"So, Llovesi, I've been thinking," Shani said in-between mouthfuls, "would you mind if I travelled with you and Julan sometime? I don't think it would be too awkward," she added hastily, "I mean we're all friends now right? And I've been training; I'm not as weak as before. I don't want to go anywhere too dangerous, I'm no adventurer, not like you and Julan, but I would like to see more of Vvardenfell..."

Llovesi took a sip of her matze and considered. In truth, having Shani around might be a laugh. "Okay," she said, "I don't see why not. In fact, we'll be going to some major cities soon if you're interested. I've got to get a load of councillors to make me their war-leader, as it happens."

"How exciting! Okay, take this," and she pulled a ring from her pocket, much like the telepathy ring Llovesi already wore, except it was set with a pink stone.

"I had Sinnammu make it for me," Shani said, "I saw yours and Julan's and wondered if she could make something similar... so we can use it to keep in touch. Do let me know about travelling!"

With that, she left Llovesi's side and sauntered over to a young tattooed Ashlander man drinking away from the fire.

The night seemed to last forever. Llovesi talked to everyone; the Ahemmusa were just as interested in her story and wanted to know about the Cavern of the Incarnate and her travels so far. But, inevitably, they would always leave and go back to Julan who kept exchanging amused looks with Llovesi.

In all honesty, she was glad not to have all the attention for once. It made a nice change. Watching Julan talk to his admirers was like a premonition of things to come... _except they're not all going to like me, are they_? Then she shook her head mentally, this night wasn't about her, and she didn't want to be thinking about it now.

Bit by bit, people started to drop off to bed. People carried bundled up children to yurts, and the fire kindled low, bringing more of a chill to the air.

Julan wandered over to where Llovesi was sitting, watching the embers in the fire, and sat down with a thud, throwing an arm around her. With his other hand, he drained his jug of matze.

"Wow, just wow," he slurred.

"All right, Julan?"

"Yes. Hah, yes. Gods! People are so stupid, Llovesi!"

"Well, that's not very nice..." she joked, amused at his tipsy state.

"Don't you think so? It's just, seeing my tribe tonight, it seems like they've spent the past decade trying to make themselves completely miserable! My mother, my father, his wife... even me and Shani in our stupid little way. We've all been acting like idiots, doing things out of spite, just hurting each other and hurting ourselves even more!"

Llovesi stared at him. "You're not getting philosophical on me now Julan, are you?" she asked.

"I just can't stand thinking about all these people who could have been so happy!" he half-shouted, waving the fortunately empty jug around. "If only they'd... Llovesi, I think you should marry me!"

Taken aback didn't even cover it. Llovesi searched for some words and found she didn't know how to use her tongue. "Are you asking me, or telling me?" she managed.

"I'm ask- no I _am_ telling you! Because I love you! You make me so happy. And I'm going to make you happy if it kills me."

"I hope it doesn't," Llovesi murmured, interrupting him, and he placed a finger to her lips.

"Shh! We should finish all this stuff you have to do, and then, we should get married, and make each other happy always! What do you say?"

"Er, okay..."

"Great!" And suddenly he was on his feet, pulling her onto hers and spinning her round. Then they collapsed into a giggly, breathless heap. Llovesi was glad that the ache in her limbs had finally subsided.

"I, uh, didn't really think this through in advance, so I don't have a ring or anything. That is the custom in Cyrodiil, right?" Julan said. "But well, we have our telepathy rings. Maybe they could be our engagement rings, at least for now."

Llovesi laughed. "It's fine, Julan. Come here..."

And they lay in each other's arms as the campfire burned low.

Finally Julan pulled away. "This'll be great," he whispered, still slightly tipsy. "We're not going to make the same mistakes as all the others. We might find lots of new ones to make, but whatever they are, I know we can deal with them. And we'll deal with that s'wit Dagoth Ur too!"

"Hmm," Llovesi murmured, feeling the pit of her stomach drop slightly. "You know, just for tonight, can we pretend I'm not the Nerevarine? And then tomorrow, carry on?"

"Sure. It helps if I don't think of you as a centuries-old warlord, actually!"

She punched him playfully on the arm, then they settled down in each other's arms and let sleep take them for the first time in days as the last sparks in the fire turned cold.

* * *

They woke up stiff with the first rays of the sun. Julan groaned, and passed a hand over his face.

"Gods, I have such a headache," he groaned.

Llovesi sat up and stretched, cracking her spine gingerly.

"Do you remember much of last night?" she asked.

"I do, actually. And I meant every word I said as well."

She smiled. "Good. Me too."

"Come on, we should go back to my home camp. I think my mother's been kept in the dark long enough."

They set off before any of the Ahemmusa had even shown themselves, walking to shake off the stiffness in their legs.

It wasn't long before they were standing in front of Mashti's yurt, fortunately in happier circumstances than the last time.

Mashti was sat in front of the firepit as they entered, hugging her knees to herself.

"So you are back?" she asked hoarsely, her hair falling into her face as she looked up at them. "Ready to take vengeance? I care not if I live or die."

"Mother, hush," Julan said, helping her to her feet gently. "I know you had nothing to do with Han-Sashael's death. I spoke with his spirit."

"You... what? Did he...?"

"Everything is going to be all right. You won't have to worry about anything anymore, I promise." And he told her the whole story.

Mashti listened, then seemed to struggle to find her voice. "I... this is too much. I can scarcely believe what you are telling me... No longer exiles? Ahmabi... dead? Oh Julan..."

Julan made to hug her, back she held him at an arm's length a moment longer.

"Julan, I once gave you a destiny, a dream. Perhaps it was wrong of me. It was not your destiny to receive and it was never mine to give. But you did not fail me. You learned to make your own fate, and you have done things I did not believe possible. You never failed me, and I never told you how proud I am of you, and... how much I... I love..."

This time she did not resist as Julan swept her into his arms and stroked her hair.

"Shhh, mother. I love you too."

Mashti sobbed dry tears, her body shaking with the effort. Then she pulled back and offered them a weak smile.

"Thank you. I think I need time to come to terms with this. But do not forgot to visit your mother, Julan, I... think I will stay here. This is my life, I cannot imagine leaving. It has been so long. In truth... I think I am frightened to be among people again. You must think me a fool."

She gave a shaky laugh.

"Never, mother. We've got to go now, but we'll be back soon I promise."

* * *

"So, what now?" Julan asked as they stood once again on the beach, watching the sea.

"I need to return to Nibani Maesa for guidance," Llovesi replied, feeling the inevitable gears of prophecy starting to creak back into action. "It's time for me to start the fourth and fifth trials."

* * *

**A/N: This just about wraps up Julan's major quest line. If you've enjoyed reading about it, I can only recommend playing it too! (if you still have Morrowind on PC that is). Don't let the fact that you know what happens put you off, it's a fantastic experience, with different choices and paths to take. Plus, I'm still playing the 1.3 version for save compatibility, but Kateri has recently released Julan 2.0 which looks to be even better!**


	33. Good Luck With That

**A/N: Thanks a lot OnnaMusha for the review and fav, and to everyone who is still reading along! Bit of a bridging chapter today, but soon Llovesi will be tackling the Hortator challenge! A reminder - this will be the last chapter posted until next Tuesday.**

* * *

_**Chapter 32: Good Luck With That**_

Nibani Maesa was deep in meditation when Llovesi and Julan entered her yurt, but her eyes snapped open immediately.

"So you have returned. Tell me what you saw and heard in the Cavern of the Incarnate."

Llovesi explained what she had seen and held her hand out so Nibani could examine the Moon-and-Star, which she did, listening intently.

"It is as I have seen in my dream," Nibani said, when Llovesi had finished. "It is a true dream, sent from Azura to guide me. Well, it once seemed a dream. Now it seems real. You have passed the Third Trial. Now you must pass the Fourth Trial and the Fifth Trial."

She recited the verses again, and explained that the four Ashlander tribes had to name Llovesi 'Nerevarine', while the four Dunmer Great Houses had to name her 'Hortator'.

"What can you tell me about the Hortator and the Nerevarine?" Llovesi asked.

"When a greater enemy threatens, the Great Houses put aside their quarrels and choose a Hortator, a single war leader to lead all the Houses. Only a Great House council can name a Hortator, and all councils must agree. Speak with the Redoran councillors, Hlaalu councillors, and Telvanni councillors. Prove to them that Dagoth Ur threatens. When you are named Redoran Hortator, Hlaalu Hortator, and Telvanni Hortator, only then will you be the Hortator named in prophecy.

"In times of great danger, the four Ashlander tribes unite under a single war leader. If you can prove to the Urshilaku, Ahemmusa, Zainab, and Erabenimsun tribes that you are the Nerevarine, and that the tribes must unite against the threat of the Sixth House, then each Ashkhan will declare you 'Nerevarine' and war leader of all tribes. You must go to all the tribal Ashkhans, but go first to Sul-Matuul, who is your friend, and who will surely grant you the honour. He may have some words for you, you should go and seek his counsel."

Llovesi hesitated. She had more questions, wanted more advice, but felt that it would be rude to keep Sul-Matuul waiting.

She bowed her head respectfully. "Thank you. I shall return shortly, after I have spoken with Sul-Matuul."

Sul-Matuul was indeed waiting attentively for Llovesi. When she entered his yurt with Julan, he spoke immediately: "So? You have faced the Third Trial in the Cavern of the Incarnate? Tell me what you saw and heard there."

So Llovesi found herself explaining the story again while Sul-Matuul listened, showing no sign of his feelings.

"It is as Nibani Maesa says," he said. "Perhaps you are the chosen one. We shall see. You have passed the Third Trial. Before you lies the Fourth Trial, and the Fifth Trial. I have spoken with Nibani Maesa, and I know these Trials. You wish to be called Urshilaku Nerevarine. But first, would you hear the counsel of Sul-Matuul?"

"I would."

"Good. First, I would give you warning. When you are called 'Nerevarine,' the word must spread, and many must hear. Your enemies will hear, and come seeking your blood. And such friends as you may have among the Great Houses, those who heed the words of the Temple, they may forget their love for you. If you have business with the People of the Houses and Temple, you may wish to conduct that business first, before you are named 'Nerevarine.'

"Second, I tell you, seek the counsel of Wise Woman Nibani Maesa, for you are an outlander, and ignorant of the ways of our people. Nibani Maesa can tell you of the other tribes, of their ways, and of their Ashkhans. If you do not know these things, you will make many mistakes, and waste precious time. That is my counsel. Now, if you wish to be named Urshilaku Nerevarine, we may speak of these things."

Llovesi hesitated again, for longer this time. If what he said were true, surely it would be easier, if that were an appropriate word, to try and become Hortator before Nerevarine?

"With respect, Sul-Matuul, I would wait," she said finally, "I feel I should not jeopardise my chances of being named Hortator before I have even begun."

Sul-Matuul nodded. "This is wise. Very well, we shall discuss these matters at a later date. But now rumours are spreading, and it will be impossible to contain them forever, nor should you want to. Before you leave, I would invite you to feast with us tonight. My tribe are eager to meet the new Incarnate formally."

Llovesi thanked him, and they returned to Nibani Maesa, who counselled her on what she knew of the three Great Houses of Vvardenfell. The Hlaalu were traders, keen for profit and subtle with words. She told Llovesi to go to the council house Balmora and search an ally, to be wary and suspicious, and look behind their words for truth.

The Telvanni councillors did not meet themselves in Sadrith Mora, rather their representatives did, and it was to them Llovesi would have to go first. All Nibani could say was that they were old, terrible, and evil. They honoured the tests of live and death, and extreme caution was advised. With wizards, there are no second chances.

The Redoran met in Ald'ruhn, under the shell of a giant Emperor Crab. Proud and haughty, they were recognised as great warriors, but also great worshippers of the Tribunal and disposed to hate Llovesi. She should beware an enemy, especially the most powerful chief. But if she could find a friend, someone willing, she might win the others.

Nibani had spoken for a long time, and given Llovesi a lot of information. She now had a few hours to try and digest it. It seemed the main thing to take away was to exercise caution. _Tread on eggshells_. But how could she do that, while at the same time appearing like a strong and capable leader? She knew how to talk to people, true, but this would take all of her persuasive powers.

Julan let out a long whistle as he sat with her in the centre of the camp.

"So, you have to go around to all these stuck-up nobles, and make them elect you war leader? That won't be easy."

"Tell me about it."

"Maybe you could bribe the Hlaalu, they only care about money. And the Telvanni don't care about politics at all, so who knows. The Redoran are honourable, but I'm not sure if that will be a help or a hindrance. Gah! I hate this stuff! Too much talking!"

"You're not the one who has to do the talking though," Llovesi said, feeling even less certain of herself.

Julan ruffled his hair thoughtfully. "True. I know you'll be better at this than me!"

Together they talked through the options, trying to lay them out logically. Maybe the Telvanni would be easier to convince with the other two Houses already on side... maybe the Redoran would be harder to convince if slippery House Hlaalu had already declared their support... this was all assuming any councillors even gave her the time of day, of course.

Eventually she decided she would try the Redoran first. It wouldn't be easy, but neither would the others, and she had to start somewhere. Gildan watched the council meetings; maybe she would have advice on where to start.

That night, she and Julan ate with the whole camp.

It was a very different occasion from the relaxed party the night before. The Ashlanders recited traditional poetry and oaths, and insisted upon ceremony. Yet the feast was pleasant, and Llovesi had the opportunity to talk with many people in the tribe, of the hundreds that were keen to. She and Julan had pride of place next to Sul-Matuul, Nibani Maesa and Zabamund. She self-consciously thanked them again for their hospitality, and their support.

A story can spread like wildfire if you give it the fuel.

There was another guest that night at the feast, a Dunmer trader from Maar Gan, one of Kurapli's main suppliers. He listened in fascination to the story of the Incarnate, and when he left the hospitality of the Urshilaku that same night; he took the story back with him. His sister in law happened to be Manse Andus, of the tradehouse with the same name. Everyone knows if you want something kept secret, you never tell a bartender. By the next morning, the whole of Maar Gan knew the story of a Dunmer named Llovesi who claimed to be the Nerevarine.

By the time Llovesi and Julan had started their journey south, the story had reached Ald'ruhn, running from lip to lip before they even arrived in the town. Whispers flew like a rustling breeze, the story rippled from town to town swiftly as the Odai River. And those who cared to listen would react. And prepare. In a month's time, the story would be all over Vvardenfell. There wouldn't be a single man or mer who hadn't heard her name. In Vivec, the Ordinators were preparing.

But it was still Morning Star as Julan and Llovesi crossed the Ashlands towards Ald'ruhn, ignorant of the rumour that was spreading. Shani, whom Llovesi had contacted to ask if she fancied seeing the biggest city in the Ashlands, joined them. Julan had agreed to have her along, half-joking that they had better not swap embarrassing stories about him.

They made Maar Gan in good time and took the silt strider south to Ald'ruhn. Llovesi caught the caravaner staring curiously at her left hand and she sat on it uncomfortably, resolving to buy gloves as soon as possible. She didn't feel she could simply take the ring off...

Ald'ruhn was much the same as they had last seen it. The city that was, not the people, for there was nearly no one to be seen in the dusty streets.

"Where is everyone?" Llovesi asked as they walked down from the silt strider platform. "I can't hear an ash storm coming..."

Shani didn't seem to mind. She was staring round the buildings in rapturous delight. Llovesi smiled, remembering Julan's face the first time he saw Vivec.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"It's... it's so big! Are there shops? Can we have a look around?"

Llovesi took a few coins from her purse and handed them to Shani.

"Go with Julan, have a look around. Can you get me some gloves too, while you're at it? I need to go speak with someone, I'll meet you back at the silt strider in an hour's time."

Gildan was taking down her laundry outside her small house when Llovesi approached. The small Bosmer glanced at her, then did a double take.

"Llovesi? Is that you? You... you look so different. It's been months!"

"Nearly half a year, I think. Can we talk?"

"Of course," Gildan said, hastily folding up her last shirt. "Come inside."

Llovesi couldn't help but notice that Gildan seemed shaken as she put her laundry down and the kettle on. Her small hands were trembling and she had dark shadows under her eyes.

"Gildan, are you okay?"

The elf swallowed, and her eyes darted to Llovesi's hand.

"So, it's true then," she said, "you are the Nerevarine. Word has gotten round. All sorts of stories and rumours. Most people think it's just that, you know, harmless superstition. But the Temple here has declared you a heretic. They're claiming you're an Imperial Spy. They don't know that of course, it's just to discredit you... but it is uncomfortably close to the truth. It's difficult."

She swallowed heavily again and sloshed water over the stove.

"I'm scared, Llovesi. Things have gotten... hard here. And they don't know you, don't know what you look like, all they know is your name. But if they find you here... if they see that ring."

Her eyes darted to it again, and Llovesi covered it with her other hand.

"Last week," Gildan went on, "Ald'ruhn was attacked. Corprus beasts and... other creatures came down from the mountains. They attacked Morvayn Manor. It's the only one outside of Skar you know... Remas Morvayn died defending his wife and children. The guards have boarded the place up, but you can still hear them in there, if you walk too close...

"You asked me if I was okay. To be honest, I don't think you'll find anyone in Ald'ruhn willing to answer 'yes' to that question."

She set two mugs of boiling tea in front of them and offered Llovesi a weak smile.

"I presume this is less of a social visit and more of Blades business. I got your note about taking over from Caius. Actually, I have a note for you too, it arrived yesterday..."

She handed a small piece of parchment to Llovesi, who placed it in her pocket.

"Thank you, Gildan. I'm here for advice actually. I know you watch the council meetings. I need... an ally. Someone who won't reject me as soon as I walk in the door. Someone who will listen to me, help me."

Gildan leant back thoughtfully in her chair.

"You want to be Hortator," she said. "Don't look so shocked. I'm a political spy, remember? It makes sense; Nerevar himself was Hortator, wasn't he? And I'm sure lots of us have been thinking lately that the conflict between the Great Houses would be better off resolved before it gets too late. Stronger together than apart, especially now we all face a new threat.

"Speak to Athyn Sarethi. He'll be at his manor under Skar if he isn't in the council chambers. He's hard-working, patient and open-minded. And, perhaps most importantly, he is no friend of Bolvyn Venim's, although I haven't been able to find out why. He'll listen to you. Find Neminda, the Redguard, at the council houses. She'll be able to give you the Red Book, it has details of all the councillors in it."

"Thank you, Gildan," Llovesi said, draining her mug then rising to go.

* * *

Outside, Llovesi unfolded the note and read:

_Llovesi,_

_I got your note, thank you for writing to me._

_In truth, I think I already suspected the worst about Clause. You mustn't think of it as your fault. You were just the last in a long line of his attempts to heal the world. He would have never been satisfied. Now I can start trying to find closure._

_I too am keen that his murderers do not escape their due. If ever you should want to call on me, I've decided to make Ald'ruhn my permanent home. You can leave messages for me at the Rat in the Pot._

_Ren._

So that was that then. As Llovesi slipped the note into her pack, she wondered how many broken families around Vvardenfell were even now struggling to piece up the pieces and carry on.

"Move along, sera."

A guard had approached and was watching her suspiciously.

"These are no times to linger in the streets," he said, and watched her from beneath his visor as she strode away, trying not to look too guilty.

Julan and Shani were waiting for her by the silt strider. Julan handed her a pair of guar-hide gloves, and she slipped them on, glad for the warmth as much as for the protection from wandering eyes.

"Nightmare trying to get this one out of the shops," Julan muttered as they walked back towards the centre of town. "Just you wait until she sees what's under Skar."

"What _is_ under Skar?" Llovesi asked, for she too had never seen the inside of the great Emperor crab.

"Nothing special. Just a bunch of rich nobles and their richer houses. I went in once for a look around. It's pretty disgusting actually. I don't understand why people need so many things to be happy."

Llovesi looked down at her dented, scruffy armour, and at Julan and Shani in their ash and mud-stained Ashlander hides.

"Do you think we should clean up a bit first? Wear something nicer?" she asked.

Julan snorted. "You're meant to convince them you're a warrior, not a willow flower in fancy clothes!"

"Yes, but I have to be diplomatic too. Being a strong leader doesn't necessarily entail tracking mud all over someone's house. I can't remember the last time I had a bath. Come on, let's go to the Ald Skar Inn, we should get a room anyway."

* * *

An hour or so later, and much cleaner, they all entered Ald Skar. Despite Julan's earlier dismissal, Llovesi found it breath-taking.

They were standing on a wooden drawbridge that sloped downwards with the curving walls of the giant shell. Shops had been built into the natural cavities on the floor, and a central wooden platform had been built around a cartilaginous spire in the middle. From this platform, drawbridges spiralled out, like the threads in a spider's web, to various manors and structures built into the walls of the shell. The ceiling sloped dramatically up away from them, and was stuck with tiny glowing lights that shimmered there like fireflies.

There were several guards patrolling the walkways, and people coming in and out of the grand building on the opposite side. Llovesi presumed this was the council building, as it was decked with House Redoran banners, and symbols of the Tribunal.

They made their way over, Shani staring around in avid interest as people entered and left the shops on the floor below carrying interesting bundles and rich clothes. But it was still about half as busy as Llovesi would have expected.

They entered the middle door of the council building and found themselves in a low-ceilinged room with many pillars and corridors leading away. Benches surrounded a large planter in the middle filled with greenery and flowers, and here a few commonly dressed people were sat, discussing in low, urgent voices.

They were all Dunmer though, and Llovesi moved round the planter, trying to see Neminda. _That has to be her, there._ A Redguard woman, sat behind a desk, dressed in fine blue and gold brocade, and writing rapidly into a large ledger.

"Excuse me?" Llovesi asked politely, approaching the desk.

The woman looked up irritably.

"What? I'm rather busy on council business at the moment!"

"I was hoping you could tell me more about the Redoran councillors?"

At this the woman brightened up considerably, growing taller in her seat with self-importance.

"The Redoran councillors are among the most distinguished and honourable Dunmer in Morrowind. Perhaps you'd like to review a recent edition of the Red Book of Great House Redoran. It lists the current Redoran councillors and their residences. Here."

She lifted a large red book from under the desk and opened it, turning it round so Llovesi could see it. She took out her journal and write down the names carefully.

_Bolvyn Venim, Miner Arobar, Hlaren Ramoran, Remas Morvayn, Athyn Sarethi, Garisa Llethri._

"It's not quite up to date I'm afraid," Neminda added, looking almost ashamed of herself. "Since the unfortunate incident at Morvayn Manor last week, Lady Brara Morvayn now holds her husband's seat on the council. She's in temporary accommodation here in the Council Hall."

Llovesi nodded and scanned the list again, then thanked Neminda, who waved her away and continued working.

Sarethi Manor was easy enough to find, for all the councillors' manors had the family banners hanging outside. They knocked on the oval door, and a servant opened it, looking at them suspiciously.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"To speak to Athyn Sarethi."

"My master is busy at work."

"This is really important."

The servant hesitated, then sighed. "Come in then," she said, "but he won't thank me for it."

She led them down a set of wide, grand stairs into what looked like an entrance hall. The floor was carpeted with thick, rich looking red rugs, lying in-between the arches made by large, ornate pillars. Llovesi heard Shani gasp, and Julan snort, behind her.

The servant led them through the hall to a large open room filled with rugs, plush sofas and stacked bookcases, to an old Dunmer man hard at work at an overflowing desk. He looked tired, and as he lifted a robed arm to rub his eyes, he caught sight of them.

"This is a bad time for visitors, I'm afraid," he said, waving a hand to dismiss the servant who bowed then returned to her post by the door.

"I understand and apologise, serjo," Llovesi said, bowing as well, "but what I have to talk to you about is urgent."

He sighed and leant back in his chair.

"I'm listening."

"I wanted to ask how House Redoran would choose a Hortator."

He looked mildly surprised. "Only the Redoran councillors can choose a Hortator for House Redoran, and it must be unanimous. The Hortator's duty is defined by ancient custom, but, in essence, a Hortator is a House champion, and must be both skilled in combat and known for his courage and honour. Every councillor must agree. A single 'no' is a veto."

Llovesi took a deep breath. "Serjo, I would like to ask for your vote as Hortator, and your guidance in talking to the other councillors. If you have a moment, I will tell you my story."

Sarethi hesitated, and for one awful moment Llovesi thought he would tell her to get out and stop wasting his time. But then he spoke: "Go on."

So she told him, avoiding any mention of the Blades: starting from when she contracted Corprus, to finding the lost prophecies, to her time spent with the Ashlanders, to finding the ring in the Cavern of the Incarnate. She slipped her glove off and held her hand out to him, and he took it gently with his own wrinkled one, examining her ring closely. She told him about the rising Sleeper attacks and the link with Dagoth Ur, and how she believed the Houses would be stronger united. At this, he gave her a particularly piercing look.

Then he let her hand fall back.

"You have told a remarkable story. It has the ring of truth. You may have been deceived, but I believe you. I may be able to persuade other councillors to believe you as well. But, as a condition of my support, I require a favour. Rescue my son, Varvur Sarethi, from Venim Manor."

The name stirred something in Llovesi's memory. "Your son?" she asked.

"Yes, my son. He is being held in Venim Manor, which is the first manor to your right when you enter Skar. Bolvyn Venim holds my son as a privilege of private justice, for a crime I'm certain he did not commit. Find my son and bring him back to me. I have heard he is being held in the right wing. Once you and Varvur leave Venim Manor, you will be safe and no one will follow you."

_Private justice... _Llovesi remembered. The young man, standing in the dusty streets of Ald'ruhn all those months ago, covered in blood. _A crime he did not commit? _The evidence was overwhelming! She fought to stop her jaw dropping open. She would do what had to be done. Giving Athyn Sarethi a curt nod, she, Julan and Shani returned to the Ald Skar Inn.

"We're going to need a plan," Llovesi said, once they were safe in their room and away from prying ears.

"Maybe we could go in disguise?" Shani suggested. "Dress like nobles, or guards?"

Llovesi nodded. "Not a bad idea. I worry that it would be obvious we didn't belong though. Maybe we could scout the place out first. I'm more worried about getting out with Varvur. If he's been held for months he may be in no condition to run from guards. We don't know what the security will be like..."

An idea came to her slowly.

"Julan, could you teach me Mark and Recall?" she asked.

"Of course," Julan said, looking slightly bemused. "Come here..."

And he taught her how to leave a magical beacon on the spot she wanted to return to, a link that she would be able to thread through space and catch onto to, like an invisible rope.

She practised and practised, long after Julan and Shani settled down for the night, leaving a Mark on one side of the room and Recalling over to it, downing potion after potion to restore her magicka.

Finally, she was satisfied. She blew out the candle and made to undress for bed, when a sound caught her ear.

The door had creaked open.

Then, in the light seeping in from the corridor, she could see a long shadow. A thin grey arm in a dirty robe felt round the door frame, and it eased its body into the room.

An Ash Zombie. Here, in the middle of Ald'ruhn. _They'd found her._ She grabbed her spear from against the wall and ran the creature through before it had a chance to react. The thud as it hit the ground woke Julan and Shani.

"Urgh"" Shani said. "What is that!?"

"It's an Ash Creature," Julan said. "Llovesi, the Sixth House is coming after you!"

"Well, I've certainly done enough to warrant it," Llovesi said grimly. "Come on, let's get this thing out of here."

Not wanting to carry the creature through the bar, they opened the small glass window and tipped it outside. Then they all went back to bed, shaken.

Llovesi lay ramrod straight, staring at the ceiling in the gloom. She couldn't sleep. Thoughts of what she had to do tomorrow were rattling around in her mind. Breaking and entering, rescuing a political prisoner, oh, and somehow convincing an entire council of Great House warlords to make her their honorary leader.

_Yeah, good luck with that_.


	34. The Hour of Wakening

**A/N: I'm back! Getting this up later than intended, oops, as the weekend tired me out more than expected. So, on with the story, and here I started to get braver with my deviations from game events. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

**_Chapter 33: The Hour of Wakening_**

_She couldn't do this alone? Could she? How could Julan and Shani help? What did any of them know about infiltration? Who did she know that knew anything about infiltration?..._

And then Llovesi sat bolt upright in bed and knew what she had to do.

* * *

If, in the mid-morning of the 17th of Morning Star, you happened to be observing the streets of Ald'ruhn particularly closely, you would have noticed this:

A guard in full Bonemold armour and a closed helm joined the morning crowds heading into Skar. This guard followed the few clerks that entered Venim Manor, keeping a careful distance. To the casual observer this behaviour would have seemed perfectly normal. But to the close observer, the guard would seem ever so slightly edgy, or excitable. Maybe a new recruit eager to prove themselves. The close observer would also have noticed that the other guards in Venim Manor were not dressed in Redoran armour but Dwemer armour, and had the rougher air of hired mercenaries. But these mercenaries were not paid for their close observation skills, so they paid the new guard little attention. Guards were allowed in the manor, after all.

This guard walked slowly round the large planter in the manor entrance, watching the other guards. Then they sat on the bench facing the right wing, almost immobile save for the few moments when they would fiddle with their bracers, as if they were uncomfortable. You would have to be staring directly over their shoulder to notice that they were not simply rearranging their armour; rather, they were making small marks on a small piece of paper. These marks corresponded with the times the other guards entered and left the right wing of the manor.

Then, after quite some time, the guard rose, and followed the next change of the guard into the right wing. The manor guard seemed disgruntled to be followed, but said nothing. It was allowed, after all.

They ended up in a large, open room at the bottom of a wide flight of steps. The guard in Dwemer armour went down the steps and exchanged a nod with the Dunmer woman already guarding the room, who left the way the new arrivals had come. The new guard sat on one of the benches and seemed to observe the room.

Then, as soon as the other guard's back was turned, this new guard rose silently from where they were sitting, and disappeared. Just like that; one minute there were they, then they were gone. Even the careful observer watching this scene would have struggled to see the key and note on the opposite bench being stolen by an invisible hand. The other guard never noticed a thing.

* * *

Outside Ald Skar, Ren took off the Redoran helmet and ran a hand through her cropped hair.

Llovesi approached from where she'd been waiting by the wall.

"So?" she asked.

"The guards change every half an hour, so if you time it right you'll be able to follow them into the right wing. But you should have no problem in this armour. Just try not to act nervous. And here," Ren handed her the key and note.

Llovesi read:

_Malsa,_

_Keep our special guest in the room behind the tapestry. Make sure the door is locked and that he is under guard at all times. If he escapes, I will blame you._

_V_

She folded the note and placed it and the key carefully in her skirt pocket.

"You should have five minutes when the guards change," Ren said. "It's not long, but the tapestry mentioned in the note isn't hard to reach, and it's out of view. Clearly they're not expecting him to escape without leaving that room."

"Thank you, Ren. Right, we'd better switch the armour."

The two women moved to a nearby alley and Ren stripped the golden armour off as quickly as she could, handing each piece to Llovesi who adjusted it for her taller, bulkier frame.

When all the straps were buckled and tightened, Llovesi lowered the full helm over her head.

"Good luck," Ren said. "And good luck convincing the other councillors as well."

"Thanks," came the muffled reply, and they parted ways.

* * *

Following Ren's directions, Llovesi had no trouble reaching the room where Varvur was being held. The other guards paid her very little attention. When she reached the right wing, she started a slow patrol around the perimeter, keeping an eye on the nearby guard in Dwemer armour that she'd followed in and counting in her head. Timing her steps. Waiting for the next change.

After something like ten circuits of the room, she heard the door above open again, and heavy steps approaching. She didn't look round, only focused on returning back to the tapestry, trying not to let nervousness hasten her step. She felt beads of sweat slip down her nose.

The new guard spoke behind her in a low, rough voice.

"The prisoner?"

"Not a word from him, Masla."

"By Vehk, you are checking on him aren't you? Did you give him his food? You know Venim wants him kept alive at all costs?"

"Yes, I..."

The previous guard seemed at a loss for words, but Llovesi was no longer focusing on what they were saying. She had reached the tapestry. In one swift movement she pulled it aside, slid the key in the lock and silently entered the room.

The young Dunmer man sat on the floor looked up in surprise. He was as Llovesi dimly remembered him, only his mohawk was limp and greasy and his face was tired and thin. Gone were his rich clothes; instead he was dressed in a simple pair of roughly sewn pants, and when he breathed in his ribs became pronounced against his chest.

"Varvur Sarethi?" Llovesi whispered.

He nodded, and spoke quietly in response: "You're not one of them. Did my father send you? Are you here to rescue me?"

"I am; come here."

He looked confused, but got shakily to his feet.

Llovesi held him and focused hard, searching for her Mark. She felt it, like a distant tug in her navel. _Well, it would either work or it wouldn't._ She pulled hard with her mind. Nothing happened.

"What are you doing?" Varvur asked. "We should leave!"

"I know, I know. Give me a moment."

_Concentrate, concentrate._ She cast Recall again. Nothing. Again. _Breathe_. Then, strangely, Julan floated to her mind. He was smiling, recounting the instructions he had given her the night before. She focused on his lips and pulled again, feeling for the void and tugging Varvur's hand, and suddenly, she and Varvur disappeared.

They rematerialised standing inside Sarethi Manor, where she had left her Mark.

"My son!"

Athyn Sarethi stood up slowly, and walked over, as if he could not believe his eyes. Llovesi could see Julan and Shani smiling from their seats near his desk.

Athyn took his son in his arms and kissed him firmly on both cheeks. Then he turned back to Llovesi.

"You rescued my son. Words cannot express my gratitude. Therefore, I name you Hortator of House Redoran. I also promise that I will use my influence with the other councillors of House Redoran. Alas, there is one obstacle. Bolvyn Venim will never name an outlander Hortator. But if you have the full support of the council, he may agree to an honourable duel."

"Duel?"

"The duel is an honourable tradition of our house. Each party to the duel makes an agreement as to the compensation that will be given to the winner. The loser is legally bound to this agreement. Most duels are fought until one party admits defeat or falls in battle. The duel to the death is less common and only ends when one party is dead. I fear that this may have to be the case with Bolvyn Venim. But I say this only to warn you, we must convince the other councillors first."

A servant arrived with a thick cloak, and Athyn arranged it tenderly over his son's shoulders.

"Please," he said, "I must attend to my son. But sit, I will return shortly and we shall discuss what must be done."

They disappeared deeper into the manor, leaving Llovesi to change into her normal outfit; Julan and Shani sitting somewhat awkwardly on the lavish sofas. A servant approached with kreshweed tea and small biscuits, so they drank and ate politely, waiting for Athyn's return.

Eventually, he did return, looking a hundred years older and carrying a small wrapped object, which he placed carefully on the floor. He sank into a nearby sofa, rubbing his forehead.

"Okay," he said eventually. "This is what I will do. I will go now and write to each of the other councillors, and explain your story and give you my recommendation for Hortator. I feel I must also write to Bolvyn Venim so that he cannot claim ignorance of you. But it will take time, I'm afraid. You may not hear anything before tomorrow."

He reached for the wrapped object at his feet.

"In the meantime, I would ask another favour of you. I have been speaking with my son about what happened... in truth I saw your face when I mentioned his crime. You have heard the stories perhaps. But believe me when I say he did not commit foul murder. I found this in his room."

He unwrapped the object. A small red glass figurine was revealed. An Ash Statue.

"Ah, you recognise it?" he asked, seeing their faces. "I myself have never seen its like before. But I have heard of soul sickness. And what my son said troubled me greatly. His bad dreams... I am a religious man, but I believe these dreams are more than an affliction of the mind. Ald'ruhn's recent attack, Brara Morvayn's tragedy..."

He rubbed his face again wearily.

"I must speak with Lloros Sarano of this, but my son mentioned he got this statue from Galtis Guvron at the Rat in the Pot. Llovesi, would you please speak to this man and convince him to stop selling these statues? I fear what will become of our city if this continues unhindered."

* * *

"I thought we might not be seeing you for a while back there."

They were on their way over to the Rat in the Pot. Llovesi turned to Julan.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, you were taking a little while. So I used the telepathy ring to... help you along a bit."

Her mind went back to the room in Venim Manor, seeing Julan... "Thank you," she said. "You're right. But still, at least I have one vote now. Five to go. And here we are."

They entered the dim, smoky, and nearly deserted bar and were directed downstairs to the back room.

A plainly-dressed Dunmer man was leaning against the wall, talking quietly to a Bosmer man. They were the only ones in the room, and they eyed the trio suspiciously as they approached.

"Yes?" Galtis Guvron asked.

Llovesi unwrapped the Ash Statue. "We need to talk to you about-" she began firmly, but Galtis didn't seem to be listening. He was staring at the statue in abject horror.

"How could you...?" he breathed. "No, never mind. I'll just have to take care of this right now."

And suddenly he drew a dagger from his side and slashed wildly at her face. Llovesi ducked back just in time, the dagger nicking her nose instead of cutting her open. The Ash Statue smashed on the floor, spilling ash everywhere. The Bosmer man turned and ran.

Galtis fought like a caged animal, but was no match for the three of them together. When the battle was over, Shani sheathed her sword and retreated to a nearby seat, looking shaken. While Julan checked to see if she was all right, Llovesi rifled through Galtis's pockets.

"A note," she said, holding it up. "Maybe we'll find out who his supplier is."

_Here is another crate of statues. These are to be placed here in Ald'ruhn. Place the statues quickly and wisely. Destroy this note. Do not disappoint me again._

_Hanarai._

"Who's Hanarai?" Llovesi wondered out loud.

"It's an Ashlander name," Julan said, frowning at the note over her shoulder. "How could an _Ashlander_ be involved in this?"

They heard footsteps behind them, and turned.

The Breton bartender had come downstairs, followed by the Bosmer man. She turned pale and clutched the wall when she saw the scene before her.

"Just leave," she said faintly. "Get out!"

They had only gone a few steps from the door when a robed Dunmer man with his hair tied back firmly approached them. Llovesi recognised him as one of the priests from the Ald'ruhn temple.

"Lloros Sarano," he said, looking her up and down with slight distaste. "Athyn Sarethi has been to see me. Although I cannot approve of what you claim to be, I understand you are helping us cut the canker from this town, and I am grateful. I must destroy the ash statue you have, before it can bring any more evil."

"It got smashed, in the bar."

The priest's eyes widened. "I must cleanse the area immediately. Did you find out the source of these statues?"

"Galtis Guvron is dead. But he was working for someone called Hanarai..."

"Hmm. Perhaps this 'Hanarai' is Hanarai Assutlanipal. She claims to be an outcast Ashlander. Her house is the first one on the right down the stairs from the Temple."

With that he swept past them into the Rat in the Pot.

"Come on," Llovesi said, feeling uneasy. She didn't like the way he had looked at her.

They found the house and Llovesi knocked on the door. But when her fist touched the wood the door swung inwards with ease.

The house was quiet and well kept, similar to other homes in Ald'ruhn that Llovesi had seen. Directly in front of them the staircase beneath the fireplace led down to the basement. Llovesi thought she could see a faint red glow coming from down the stairs, and she moved carefully into the house to get a better look.

"It is the Hour of Wakening."

The voice came from behind the fireplace. It was the voice of a madwoman. Hanarai stepped into view. She was brandishing a small chitin dagger.

"Dagoth Ur awakes, and comes forth in his glory, and his people shall rejoice, and his enemies shall scatter like dust," she spat.

"How dare you betray your people!" Julan shouted.

Hanarai laughed.

"It matters not. They are coming now. Coming with the dust. Can't you hear them? Oh joyous drums and bells!"

She attacked. Like Galtis before her she was wild and unpredictable, but she was also weak and unprotected, and no match for three fighters with weapons.

When she lay dead before them, Llovesi turned and headed down the stairs without looking back.

The door was locked and, judging from the faintly perceptible magical aura, also trapped. Llovesi kicked hard above the handle twice, breaking the lock and absorbing the protective spell.

A Sixth House shrine lay before their eyes. The red banner seemed strangely out of place with the Redoran architecture; the red candles bathed the room in an eerie red glow. Lumps of rancid Corprus meat hand been strung across candelabras, creating a twisted form of bunting. And there were crates and crates of Ash Statues.

"I think we've found the main cause of soul sickness in this city," Llovesi said.

"Llovesi? Julan?" Shani asked in small voice from behind them. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear wh-?" But then Llovesi felt it. A small rhythmic thud. A drumbeat in the distance.

"What is it?" Julan started to ask, then the great sound of a horn ripped through the air, low, long and loud. It was coming from outside.

"That sounded like the city's warning beacon," Julan said, turning pale.

They dashed back upstairs and into the streets.

Ald'ruhn was in chaos. People were running this way and that, clutching at packs and bundles. Mothers were pulling children back into houses, telling them not to look, telling them it would be okay. Llovesi watched as a large group of people ran towards the temple, screaming.

"What's going on?" she asked.

In answer, Shani raised a trembling finger and pointed south towards the silt strider port.

At first, Llovesi thought it was an incoming ash storm. Then she realised that the great clouds of dust hurtling towards the city had a more physical cause. An army was approaching.

And not just any army. The Ash Zombies marched in front, beating drums and ringing bells. The dissonant, off-tone noises echoed in the city, and people covered their ears in terror. Behind them, the Ash Slaves, hunched over, their arms crackling with electrical energy. Dreamers and Ash Ghouls were flanking the mass, swinging clubs and preparing spells. In the middle and towards the back, the distorted, nightmarish hulks of Ascended Sleepers floated, adding their long, bellowing moans to the cacophony.

Guards were now guiding people back to their houses, or towards the temple. People were barricading doors. Over this, the distress horn sounded again, and again.

The army had reached the entrance to the city. Guards were assembling in ranks and drawing their weapons, but they would be outnumbered. The door to the Fighters Guild burst open, and Percius Mercius ran out, leading a small group of mercenaries. It wouldn't be enough.

The ash creatures stopped moving, and fanned out. An Ascended Sleeper drifted forward. Dressed in darker robes than the rest, it had a strange red crystal pendant swinging round its neck that Llovesi could see even at a distance. It raised its many trunks and bellowed into the sky in strange distorted moan that turned her stomach with fear.

"Ald'ruhn! Too long you have resisted His will! Now you shall be submitted. Of His Flesh and in His Ash, even through death you shall come to him!"

Before she knew what was happening, Llovesi found that her feet were carrying her down towards the guilds, where the city's defenders had gathered.

"You shall not take these people!" she shouted in reply, drawing her spears. "Not while I live!"

If the Ascended Sleeper had had eyes, she sensed it would have narrowed them.

"Nerevar. Words will not protect you. I shall be glad to have the honour of delivering you to my Lord."

There was a dreadful, infinitesimally short pause as the two sides eyed each other up. Llovesi was painfully aware of just how unprepared their side looked, just how nervous some of the guards appeared, clutching their shields in front of them. Just how young some of the fighters appeared, the randomness and poor quality of the weapons and armour they had managed to scavenge. Then she caught Percius Mercius's eye and he nodded at her. And she realised what it meant to be Hortator, partly anyway. Raising her spears high, she shouted:

"For Ald'ruhn!"

Then the ash creatures charged.

In was the first true battle Llovesi had been in, and it was confusing and difficult. She soon lost sight of Julan and Shani, lost sight of any other distinct fighter. She was aware of conflict going on around her, but it was all a blur as she focused on dodging and countering the attacks of her own assailants. She was fighting on pure instinct; her only tactic was to avoid death. She dodged and weaved, impaling and pushing back Ash Slaves and Zombies alike.

An acrid smell filled the air, and it dawned on her that they were burning the buildings. The Mages Guild was on fire, and half the Mages directed their efforts away from the battle, turning their magicka to frost spells to fight the flames. Civilians desperately trying to escape the destruction were being caught in the crossfire. They were all being pushed back towards Skar.

_They're trying to cause as much chaos as possible_, Llovesi thought, _and they're succeeding_. She forced her way through the skirmishes, to the centre, where the Ascended Sleeper who had led the charge was duelling two Redoran guards. With an effortless sweep of its tentacled brow it threw one of them of their feet, and hit the other squarely in the chest with a powerful spell. Then it turned to her.

She was still scared, that was true, but she locked the fear away in the back of her mind, tried to drown it out with courage. There was no time to be afraid.

She hurled Illkurok as hard as she could, catching the creature deep in the writhing mass of tentacles where a face might have once been. It howled balefully, then pulled the spear out with a horrible sucking noise. It snapped it between its spiny hands. Just like that, her most powerful weapon, gone.

But she had wounded the leader, badly, and she was dimly aware of a faltering in the ranks around her. Slowly, so slowly she hadn't even noticed it happening, the city's defenders were starting to regain the upper hand. So she leapt right in and continued the fight, drawing her dagger in her free hand.

The Dagoth, for surely that's what it was, sent spell after spell at her. She felt heat sear her limbs, frost grip her chest, felt white-hot pain as lighting cracked across her abdomen. But still she fought on. And around her the carnage continued.

There was a shout:

"They're coming up from behind, they've left Morvayn Manor!"

"Fighters, take the rear! Push them back!" That was Percius.

"Reinforcements coming from Skar!"

Then suddenly she felt small hands pushed her aside.

It was Ren, Ren with mad eyes and a lethal looking dagger. She threw herself at the Ascended Sleeper with a roar:

"This is for Clause, you monster!"

Ren, brave with her fury, foolish with her fury, jumped onto the creature and stabbed wildly with her dagger. Try as it might, it could not throw the furious Breton off. So it changed tack.

Llovesi watched in horror, feeling as though she had been rooted to the spot. The Ascended Sleeper laid its withered hands on Ren's face and cursed her. Her flesh bubbled and blistered and she screamed. But she didn't stop the attack. Nor did she stop as the seams of her clothes burst as her bones deformed and her flesh grew monstrous. She drove the Ascended Sleep to the ground, and as its hands left her face and it howled its last, Ren turned to Llovesi and smiled through lopsided features.

"I did it," she said thickly. "I did it for Clause."

Then she died.

The battle was over. Without the Dagoth to lead them, the other Sixth House beasts were faltering. The remaining ash creatures were being chased from the town. But there were many bodies lying in the streets as well, and many wounded being tended to by Temple healers. The battle had spread far, and many buildings had been reduced to smoking wrecks. As Llovesi looked at the damage around her, she realised they had won, but at a great cost. And it hadn't even been a big army.

Julan, it turned out, had joined the fighters in retaking Morvayn Manor. He emerged a hero; having taken on three Corprus beasts at once, and having retrieved the Ash Statue that first led them there. Llovesi met him and Shani as the latter helped a limping Altmer teenager to a nearby healer.

"This, this is what you have to deal with?" Shani asked quietly, looking at the scenes of destruction and recuperation around them.

"It's why it's important that I fulfil the prophecy as soon as possible. There might be more... moments like this." Llovesi said.

She didn't want to consider the possibility, but knew she had to. Scenes of Ren's final act replayed in her mind.

"In that case..." Shani took a deep breath, and Llovesi noticed she was pale and sweaty. She laid a hand on the smaller woman's shoulder and Shani smiled weakly.

"In that case," she repeated, "I think I'm going to go home. I'm no use to you..."

"Don't say that."

"It's true though. I'm no fighter, I couldn't help earlier. I wanted to see Vvardenfell, but this isn't the Vvardenfell I wanted to see."

Llovesi realised there was no point arguing, so they waited while Shani recovered herself, then she left them, using her ring to teleport back to the Ahemmusa Camp. Llovesi half-wished she could simply run away too.

She became aware that someone was watching her. A Dunmer fighting in full ebony mail was fixing her with a stare that raised goosebumps on her skin. He looked at her in complete contempt, then turned and strode back to Skar. Llovesi watched him go, bemused, but soon forgot about him as she helped move the bodies of the fallen and tend to the injured.

As the sun was drawing low in the sky, Athyn Sarethi found her in the crowd in the upper town outside Skar.

"We have just met as a council," he said, surveying the scenes below them with his arms folded behind his back.

"I believe it is now clear to everyone that your coming and this disaster is no coincidence. You should go and visit the other councillors in their manors and obtain their votes. I doubt any will now oppose you. Any, perhaps, save Bolvyn. He was not present at our meeting, for he was still aiding in the aftermath of the attack. He has always been a strong and powerful leader, but he is proud. Remember that you may challenge him to a duel. Go well, Llovesi."

He returned to the Manor District, and Llovesi followed. As he had said, all the other councillors were quick to thank her for her role in defending the city, and to give her their votes.

Miner Arobar, a stern and pious man pompously granted her his vote, urging her to go forth and smite Dagoth Ur.

Hlaren Ramoran, a far more melancholy man, simply stated that he trusted Athyn Sarethi, and gave her his vote.

Garisa Llethri was blunt as well. He told her plainly that he thought her story was crazy, but that he liked her efficiency. So she got his vote as well.

And Brara Morvayn, who was quiet and reflective when she received them in the council hall.

"Mama, what's going on? Who are these people?" A small boy was peeking from behind her skirts.

"Hush, Lleril. Everything will be all right. At least," and she straightened to her full height to address Llovesi and Julan, "I hope it will. I'm troubled. In politics, I expect subtlety and deceit. But not from my Temple. I believe your story. Your ring is genuine. And you have the manner of a hero. I've heard the rumours that you are a spy for the Empire, but your friend has removed the Ash Statue from Morvayn Manor and what I know of you inclines me to trust you. For these reasons, I name you, Llovesi, as Hortator of House Redoran."

Llovesi thanked her, and left her to comfort her children. There remained only one councillor to visit now.

Bolvyn Venim.


	35. Our Chosen Champion

_**Chapter 34: Our Chosen Champion**_

The eyes of all the guards in Venim Manor followed Llovesi as she walked past, and they were hissing under their breath. Clerks saw her coming, and dropped what they were holding, scuttling away as if they didn't want to be seen near her.

Of course they knew who she was. Every man, mer and child in Ald'ruhn had seen the battle, had seen her speak up in defence of the city. And now here she was, striding through the manor of their Archmaster, covered in blood, ash and dirt. No wonder people were getting out of the way.

Well, not everyone. One of the guards in Dwemer armour cut across her path, standing in front of the door to the manor's private quarters.

"Bolvyn Venim will not speak to you," he said firmly, his arms folded across his chest. "He has no desire to see you."

"He'll see me whether he wants to or not," Llovesi said, emboldened by the adrenaline that was still coursing through her blood. She pushed past the astonished guard into the next hall.

She stopped to catch her breath, and was momentarily stunned by the beauty of the room she had just burst into. It was by far the most opulent manor hall she had seen. It was bisected by a raised bridge, directly opposite the door she had walked through, accessed by wide sets of gilded steps. Pillars and giant mushrooms soared to the distant ceiling, which itself was a mass of intricate mosaics.

She had paused too long; uncertainty was creeping back into her stomach. Moving her leaden feet one after the other, she climbed the wide staircase and turned left.

People in in rich and bright silks were moving hurriedly about the room as Llovesi peered in, trying to spot Bolvyn Venim. Then, a group of the guards in the Dwemer armour moved aside and her eyes locked with those of the man the movement had revealed.

It was the Dunmer man from outside, in the ebony armour. She noticed him properly this time, and wondered how she'd managed to forget him. He filled the room with his presence, a tall, imposing figure in his bright, ornamental, yet well-worn, armour. His red mohawk was slicked upright with not a hair out of place, his beard was neat and trimmed and his scarlet eyes were staring her down with hate and loathing.

Llovesi felt incredibly small in her dirty clothes and battered armour, but she strode over to meet him.

But he turned away. "No," he said, and his voice was surprisingly soft, "I will not talk to you."

"But, Serjo, I have spoken to all the other councillors-"

"And you have their support for Redoran Hortator." He turned back to her, and although his face was controlled she could see the rage burning in his eyes.

"Perhaps you think I am stupid, outlander? Or that I do not pay attention to the affairs of my own house, or care about my city? You were not alone in the streets today."

Llovesi was wrong-footed. "No, I... But-"

"I am not stupid. And I cannot control the others' decisions, but know this. I will veto them. I will never shame House Redoran by naming an outlander Hortator, especially not one so ignorant, foolish and fraudulent as you. You have played your tricks on the other councillors, but they will not work on me. Imperial Spy!"

People were openly staring now, and Llovesi heard a small laugh, which was silenced when Bolvyn Venim glanced furiously around the room.

Her cheeks flushed.

"Bolvyn Venim, I challenge you to a duel for the title of Redoran Hortator."

He stopped in his tracks and swung to face her again.

"Very well," he whispered. "This has gone far enough. I will put a stop to your ambitions in the Arena in Vivec. Meet me there tomorrow morning. But know this, it will be a duel to the death and I am merciless."

He left and the room fell into stunned silence. Julan and Llovesi left as well, to go and tell Athyn the good news, if it could be considered that. Julan seemed strangely excited.

"Wow, Llovesi!" he kept saying. "You're going to fight a duel to the death? Honour and all that stuff? Wow!"

Llovesi felt far more apprehensive. Had she ever fought in an organised fight, with rules and spectators? Bolvyn Venim seemed like he would be a fearsome and accomplished opponent.

Athyn Sarethi shared her concerns. He could do no more than wish her luck, and tell her that he and the other councillors would travel to Vivec as well to watch the outcome.

It was another restless night for Llovesi in the Ald Skar Inn. Visions of Ren joined Clause in the dark tunnels of her dreams.

She woke early, grey and tired, and she and Julan took the guild guide to Vivec.

A full storm was raging over the cantons. Lightning flashed in the blackened sky, thunder boomed overhead and rain slashed violently against the sandstone walls.

She didn't say a word as they walked over to the Arena Canton, nor as they were directed to the fighters' training area. Trying to ignore the trembling of her hands, Llovesi adjusted her cuirass, greaves, boots and bracers, wishing they weren't quite so old and dented. She unstrapped Airan-Ahhe's spirit spear and her glass halberd from her back, and moved experimentally round the padded floor, trying different stances and flexing; warming up. But her mind was strangely blank.

Julan coughed behind her. He looked strangely tense as well.

"Is it time?" he asked.

"I suppose so," Llovesi said, her throat dryer than she would have liked.

"I was just thinking," he continued, "if this is an honour duel, I should probably go and watch from the balcony with the rest of the crowd. Two on one doesn't seem very honourable to me. But if you need me, just call me down on the telepathy ring..."

They looked at each other; both knowing there was no way that situation could arise. Llovesi had to win by herself, fair and square, if her claim to Hortator stood any chance of legitimacy.

"Thank you," she said, and together they left the training area. When they reached the centre of the canton, Julan continued straight ahead, to head outside and up to the balcony. Llovesi turned a corner up the stairs, to the entrance to the arena pit. He embraced her and wished her luck, then she was alone.

A bored-looking Imperial steward was waiting by the door, checking a list.

"You're our ten o'clock?" he asked, "Llovesi, Bolvyn Venim, the honour duel?"

"Yes," Llovesi said, again wishing her throat felt less dry. There was a strange roaring in her ears.

"He's waiting in there for you. I suppose you know all the rules? Just because it's an honour duel doesn't mean you can't be flashy, you know. I know how dry you House types can be. You'll have an audience, in fact, quite the crowd have turned out for this one." Despite his words, he sounded completely uninterested. "If you do win, you're welcome to any of his possessions. Right, I think that's it, have at it."

He stood aside to let her pass, and she opened the door and stepped into the Arena, placing her chitin helm on her head. The roaring in her ears had become deafening, but at least it was slightly muffled now.

The sound was, perhaps in part, the cries of the crowd. She acknowledged them dimly in the background. Raised above her, a great wall of people pressing against the ring, staring eagerly into the pit and cheering, yelling. So many faces. She blocked them out.

The pit itself was wide, circular and filled with raked sand. And there, standing across from her, wearing a grim smile to suit his gilded armour was Bolvyn Venim. He acknowledged the cries of the crowd with a small nod, and stepped forward into the light.

There was an announcer somewhere, listing Bolvyn Venim's titles and achievements, and the roars intensified. She heard her name, and practically felt the weight of the gazes that had fallen upon her.

The crowd had grown silent at her name, and the lack of titles to follow it, so she heard the announcer's next words in all clarity:

"Now, pray be silent for the duel and pay both combatants the respect they are due."

Bolvyn Venim unsheathed his sword, a truly massive Daedric blade and held it out with flourish. Then he ran towards her.

The cheers started up again, but Llovesi found that she could block them out until they were nothing but a dull buzzing in her ears. They didn't matter anyway. Of course everyone here was supporting Venim. He was the Archmaster of House Redoran, renowned, respected, and feared. She didn't have anybody to impress. She had to do this for herself. In a way, that took the pressure off.

She brandished her own weapons and ran to meet him, a well of determination bursting free inside her.

He swung the sword at her head and she ducked, dodging behind him. He dodged too, before she had the chance to get a hit in, but she caught the look of brief surprise on his face. He had expected her to fight worse than this. The crowd, ignoring the announcer, were screaming again.

He came at her again, and although he was fast, even in his heavy armour, Llovesi was faster. He hissed in annoyance as his blade whistled uselessly past her left ear.

She could keep this up, she realised, swinging her spears at his legs in attempt to unbalance him, ducking and weaving as he tried to slice her open. If there was anything she'd learnt from her fights on Vvardenfell so far, it was how to stay alive.

Someone in the crowd laughed as he failed to hit her yet again. He was driving her back, it was true, but she danced and dodged without tiring.

Venim, on the other hand, was panting slightly and beads of sweat were appearing on his forehead. They had been fighting for a long time now, with no blows being landed, and he was tiring. His moves were becoming more erratic, more frustrated.

"Outlander, you fight with no honour!" he roared suddenly, his scarlet eyes wide with rage.

She heard an intake of breath go round the arena, and understood the gravity of the insult.

"And you fight with no skill!" she retorted, pleased to hear a few laughs at her comment.

It had the desired effect, at any rate. Venim eyes widened even further and a vein bulged on his forehead. He launched himself at her again, but anger was making him lose his control. She saw her opening and thrust her spear at the plates of his cuirass.

The blow winded him, but he slashed out and this time his blade connected with her left leg. She felt it bite deep into her flesh until it hit the bone, felt a searing dull ache as the blood throbbed out, staining her boot dark.

Venim grinned, and suddenly looked quite deranged. "Remember outlander, no mercy," he said as she sunk to one knee.

Llovesi stared him in the eye through her helm, and spoke through gritted teeth. "Good. I wasn't going to show you any."

And she ducked under his blade for one last time, and thrust her spear upwards into his chin. He choked, a short, strangled and strangely surprised sound, and toppled backwards.

The crowd howled and cheered. It seemed some had come round to supporting her after all. She crawled to Venim's side as he blinked slowly and his gauntleted hand found the wound in his throat.

"I _am_ merciful, however," she said, "do you yield? There's still time. You don't have to die."

His eyes were glazing over but they found hers, and he sneered, then pressed his wound tightly to speak, choking out each word with force:

"You... must be... a coward... to even... imagine... such a thing. Knights... and gentlemen... do not yield to... animals. I... despise... you. Kill... me. I curse you with my dying breath!"

Llovesi drew her dagger and placed it to his throat, but before she could end his pain, his eyes grew blank and his head lolled to one side. She drew her fingertips over his eyelids, then got shakily to her feet.

The crowd was implacable. They pressed against the wall of the pit, waving, clapping and cheering. Llovesi scanned for Julan's face, for Athyn's face, or indeed for any of the councillors' faces, but she couldn't make anyone out. Then, worryingly, she noticed several Ordinators pushing their way through the crowd, stopping to interrogate random citizens. Thanking Azura she'd decided to wear a helmet that mostly covered her face, she limped back into the waistworks.

"Well done." The bored-looking steward was still there, barely glancing at her as he rolled the scroll up. "Sounds like you gave quite a show after all."

Julan was waiting for her, Julan, his face nearly white with worry.

"There you are!" he said, catching her as she stumbled. "Congratulations! I thought I was going to have to come and get you... let me see your leg."

He pulled her boot off and applied a healing spell. While he was doing this, Llovesi noticed another familiar figure approaching. Athyn Sarethi, carrying a small package and some papers under his arm.

"Really now!" The steward was paying attention, and looked annoyed. "This is not a meeting place! We have more fights to prepare for!"

"It would be best if we moved along," Athyn said, and Llovesi caught something worrying in the tone of his voice. She and Julan followed him to an alcove in a nearby corridor.

"Congratulations," he said, appearing satisfied that they were alone. "I'm sorry; normally there would be more ceremony for this, but you may have realised that the Ordinators are looking for you. Here is a recent public notice identifying you as an Imperial agent. I am satisfied of your sincerity, but I warn you that others may not be so understanding."

He passed her a folded extract from a daily newspaper, and Llovesi read it in growing alarm.

_WELL-BELOVED PEOPLE OF MORROWIND!_

_TAKE HEED!_

_TAKE WARNING!_

_The outlaw named Llovesi, stated trade of Adventurer, lately called 'Incarnate' and 'Neverarine', now is shown to the investigating Ordinators and Magistrates of this district to be an agent in the pay of the Imperial Intelligence Service. This outlaw's claims are false. The prophecies this outlaw cites are discredited. The dishonest character and base purposes of the outlaw in perpetrating this hoax are now made clear to all observers. Llovesi is sought for various crimes by Ordinators and town guards. Report all encounters with this outlaw to the proper authorities. If you see this outlaw in public, give the alarm._

_Published by the authority of the Temple, the order of the Watch, Magistrates of Vvardenfell District, under the signature and authority of Grandmaster Berel Sala, Captain of the Watch. Hear and Heed!_

Llovesi lowered the sheet, her heart thudding. How was she going to convince the other Great Houses of her claims now?

"There's a warrant for my arrest," she said.

"But no description," Julan said, reading over her shoulder. "Not everyone is going to instantly recognise you."

"Julan is right," Athyn said, "and take heart in the fact that not everyone will believe this notice either. In truth it troubles me, and I know it troubles the other councillors. We are not used to such attempts to mislead from our own Temple. But I have some good news too..."

He uncovered the package, revealing an exquisitely carved ring.

"The Council of House Redoran is in agreement. You are the Hortator of House Redoran. On behalf of the House and Council, take the Ring of the Hortator, a token of your office. By this ring others shall know you as our chosen champion.

"I also have a sealed package for you. I do not know what it contains, but I received it from a contact in the highest ranks of the Temple. My guess is that it has something to do with the Temple's position on your claim to fulfil the Nerevarine prophecies. Perhaps a different position to the one they're putting in the newspapers."

"Thank you, serjo."

He nodded, and turned to leave. "Good luck. I hope you are as successful in persuading the rest of Morrowind to unite against Dagoth Ur and his blighted hosts."

Llovesi turned the package he had given her over. It was light and sealed with a wax seal, and there was a note scrawled just below this, which she read aloud:

"To the Outlander lately proclaiming her identity as the Nerevarine, to be delivered with haste."

"Well, open it!" Julan said impatiently.

Llovesi slid a single sheet of paper free, and she read it aloud quietly as they walked through the canton:

"The assertions being made in direct contradiction of the doctrine of the Tribunal, namely, that you are the Nerevarine, the reincarnation of the Sainted Lord Nerevar, are, in addition to being against Temple teaching, incredible and implausible in the extreme.

"The revelations made by the Inquisition, namely, that you yourself are in fact an agent of the Imperial Intelligence Service, otherwise known as the Order of Blades, lately made with substantial evidence by the Lord High Archordinator, Berel Sala, further calls into question the validity of and motivations behind your claims.

"However, as incredible as your claims are, as much as they are in direct contradiction of the teachings of the Temple, and tainted as they are by the inferences to be made upon your close association with the covert policies and interests of the Emperor, the interest of the temple and its leadership, and in particular, the interests of His Immortal Lordship, Vivec, are best served by a close and personal examination of the claims being made, and close and personal examinations of the motivations and character of the claimant-WHAT?"

Llovesi stopped reading aloud and quickly scanned the rest of the letter, her unease now turning to open shock.

"They want me to meet the Archcanon of the Temple, Tholer Saryoni," she said slowly. "In secret, but only when I'm Hortator and Neverarine. Well," she said, folding the letter carefully away, "that probably won't be for quite a while. If I manage it, then I'll go and see this Danso Indules and arrange a meeting."

They had reached the door to exit the canton. Llovesi pulled her hood up, satisfied that with the current weather conditions she wouldn't stand out as too suspicious.

"I suppose this doesn't mean they'll call the Ordinators off tho-ARGH!"

They had stepped outside, and someone waiting in the shadows had stabbed Llovesi in the side.

She gasped and reeled back, but the wound was not fatal, nor even that serious. Whether by chance, or lack of skill, her assailant had somehow managed to avoid hitting any major organs or arteries.

She caught the attacker by their wrist before they could strike again, and twisted it behind their back. They let out a cry and dropped their dagger.

Llovesi realised two things simultaneously. One, her attacker was female, probably a Bosmer, and two, her attacker was a lot smaller than her. So Llovesi twisted the woman's arm further behind her and pushed forward until they were at the edge of the canton. Then somehow they overbalanced, and the Bosmer was dangling over the edge of the canton. Her hood fell back, and Llovesi saw that she was quite young, and looked afraid.

"What do you want?" Llovesi asked furiously. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just drop you into the water!"

The Bosmer looked thoughtful for a moment as the wind howled around them both. "I don't suppose me telling you that I have an honourable writ for your execution would change anything, would it?" she asked.

"It... it certainly wouldn't! I know a lot of people want me dead, it doesn't mean I'm just going to let them kill me!"

The Bosmer readjusted her grip, casting a fearful look below her. "Look, I'm sorry," she said, "really, but my career kind of depends on this. And I've mucked up, like I normally do, but I'm still going to have to try again."

This had to be the most surreal conversation Llovesi had ever had. Ignoring the throbbing in her side, and Julan's snickers, she asked: "Who are you working for?"

The Bosmer hesitated but Llovesi shook her threateningly, and she sighed. "Okay, okay, I'm with the Morag Tong. It's really not meant to go like this you know."

"The who?"

For the first time, the Bosmer looked genuinely floored. She stopped struggling quite so much and stared up at Llovesi in disbelief.

"You mean you've never heard of...? But..."

"Oh no, wait, Huleeya was with the Morag Tong, wasn't he?" Llovesi asked, turning to Julan, who nodded in between stifling his laughter.

"You're a guild of assassins," she said, turning back to look down at the Bosmer, "but aren't you supposed to be all honourable? Not much honour in sneaking up on me in the shadows, is there?"

"Yes, well." The Bosmer's tone suggested that if she could have shrugged, she would have. "I was told to be careful with you. You're apparently quite powerful. So maybe I didn't exactly play by the rules..."

Llovesi thought fast, trying to come up with a way to resolve the situation in her favour.

"I think you've just voided your contract," she said, trying to sound convincing. If the Bosmer was as new as she looked, maybe she'd fall for it.

"No... I..."

"I want to meet your superiors. Take me to them."

At this, the Bosmer girl turned truly pale.

"No," she said, grasping at Llovesi's arms so hard her knuckles turned white. "If you would ask me that you may as well drop me into the water. I know my life's worth, and it is not worth that."

"Then let me know where I can find them. I will not mention our meeting."

The Bosmer hesitated for the longest moment yet, her feet kicking uselessly against the empty air beneath her.

"Okay," she said finally, "okay. Let me up and we'll talk."

Llovesi pulled the girl back up, and she scrambled over the wall of the canton.

"Okay," she said. "Here's what I know."


	36. Unorthodox Encounters

**A/N: So now Llovesi is Redoran Hortator, and her quest continues... but first she has some business to take care of. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter as, well hopefully, you'll see! Do let me know what you think!**

* * *

_**Chapter 35: Unorthodox Encounters**_

"I really don't think this is a good idea, Llovesi."

Llovesi ignored Julan, and strode back through the Arena canton, heading down flights of stairs towards the canalworks. She'd already made up her mind, and wavering would only waste time.

"Seriously, what are you going to do, walk in and ask them not to kill you? They're _assassins!"_

He dodged in front of her as her hand stretched out to open the door to the Arena Storage.

"Please," he said, looking both cross and desperate, "I know what you're like when you get like this. You're so impulsive. Just think about it."

Llovesi dropped her hand and sighed. "I _have_ thought about it. And I can't go around Vvardenfell convincing councillors to name me Hortator with a writ on my head. It's difficult enough as it is, I don't need assassins coming after me as well. That girl was clearly inexperienced. What if they send someone better next time? Someone I can't defeat?"

"But what are you going to _say,_ for Azura's sake?"

Llovesi paused. Admittedly, her burst of determination hadn't led her as far as to consider what she would actually do if she managed to find the Morag Tong's secret hiding place.

"I don't know," she said finally. Then she glanced down at her side. Julan had healed her quickly after they'd left the young would-be-assassin behind, but the leather of her cuirass was still stained a deep, dark red. As farcical as the attack had ended up being, she'd still been wounded.

"All I know is I've been stabbed today more times than is healthy. You don't have to come with me, but I'm going to confront them."

She pushed him gently but firmly out of the way.

Julan snorted. "Of course I'm coming. If they turn on you, you'll need help getting out!"

The storage was dark and musty, and Llovesi carefully lit a torch from her pack as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Most of the storage looked as if it hadn't been touched in years; thick cobwebs hung in great strings from the ceiling, and a deep layer of dust swirled at their ankles.

However, here and there, there were footprints and evidence of barrels having been moved. She heard a rustle, and had her dagger out in a second, but it was just two rats squabbling over a piece of scrib jerky.

She sighed in relief, and bypassed them, turning right as the Bosmer girl had instructed. _Jumpy, too jumpy. _It could only be early afternoon, but it already felt like the longest of days.

Following the instructions she had coerced from the girl, it was no trouble finding the trapdoor. She eased it open gently and was about to slide down the ladder when she caught Julan's expression.

"You can stay here and wait," she said hesitantly. "I don't want to make you do something you don't want to do."

"No..." he said, then with more conviction: "No. You followed me up the mountain, I'll follow you down here, if this is where you want to go."

Llovesi bit her lip, wondering if she was making a huge mistake. Julan's comparison didn't help. Nevertheless, she continued. The further they went, the more she felt as if this was a bad idea. But wasn't it better to be active, rather than reactive, for once? She couldn't have assassins trailing her across the island for the rest... well, for the foreseeable future.

They met only a few trapped and locked doors in the passageway below, which posed little problem for Julan, and then they were in the secret headquarters of the Morag Tong.

The room they could see was large and low-ceilinged, with barrels, crates and chests, piled against the walls as if it weren't a permanent base at all. It had nothing of the grandeur she'd been expecting, and was nearly empty as well.

She could only make out one figure in the room, in full netch leather, leaning against the wall and when he saw them he pulled his helmet up and approached, his hand on his dagger.

"Who are you?" he asked with suspicion but without complete hostility.

"I want to speak with whoever's in charge here. Or whoever handles the writs."

His hand didn't move from his dagger, and Llovesi felt rather than heard Julan behind her moving into a fighting stance.

The man spoke again: "You didn't answer my question. But you want to speak to Eno Hlaalu? You are in luck for only he can allow outlanders to join."

_To join?_ Llovesi's mouth suddenly felt full of cotton. She tried to think, and all the while the man in the armour watched her as one might watch an unpredictable prey.

"Yes, that's what I want," she said finally, and was relieved to see the man's hand finally leave his dagger. "Please, take me to him."

"Very well. That you have found our headquarters may be enough to convince him, but no doubt he will have some test for you. We do not let just anyone join. And you," he spoke to Julan suddenly, making him jump, "are you also here to join?"

"No," Julan said through his teeth, and Llovesi could tell he was fighting to control some emotion. "No, I'm just her companion."

"Very well," the man said, "then you'll forgive me, but I have to ask you to stay here for the time being. We cannot allow non-members to proceed any further. Normally they do not leave with their lives either, for although we detest killing without honour and we operate within the law, we cannot have the whole of Vvardenfell knowing our location. But, I think we'll make an exception for you, eh?"

Julan said nothing, his face frozen with rage and, perhaps, fear. He was clearly itching to follow them regardless, but Llovesi shot him a pleading look and he stayed put.

Llovesi followed the man upstairs, her heart in her mouth.

He led her through a training area, where the few robed assassins training glanced at them with brief curiosity, to a dormitory, to a back-room, and there, sitting writing quietly at a desk, was the man she presumed must be Eno Hlaalu.

He was old. Well, older than she'd expected anyway. His greying hair was tied neatly behind his head and even though he was hunched studiously over his letter she could tell he was small and slim in stature. Wearing the same maroon robes as the assassins they'd passed, his hands were gloved, and he was wrapped up in a sash and scarf. He coughed softly as he wrote and for a short while the only sound in the room was his quill scratching the parchment.

The man who'd brought her cleared his throat respectfully, and Eno Hlaalu turned to look at them. His red eyes were blank, pupil-less, and although Llovesi was used to seeing Dunmer like this on Vvardenfell now, it was still sufficiently rare to give her a start.

"Grandmaster Hlaalu, this woman wishes to join our ranks," the man said, his voice shaking slightly.

Hlaalu nodded and rose. "Very well. You may leave us." His voice was pleasant and quiet, so far nothing like the assassin Llovesi had expected. But he was the Grandmaster. The _Grandmaster_. _She would have to be very careful_-

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than there was a flash of maroon. She was pinned to the wall, a blade against her throat. That same warm and pleasant voice tickled her ear:

"I apologise for my lack of courtesy, but you must realise that I know who you are, Llovesi."

For a moment she was too shocked to speak, too keenly aware of the cold steel pressing against her windpipe and the rough stone against her back.

"H-how?" she managed to whisper.

"I received the writ on your life only yesterday, and issued it only this morning. I'm capable of putting two and two together, Llovesi. I won't say that I was expecting you, but I was curious... you are no noble, no Great House retainer. I wondered if you might try to pay us a visit. And so soon. Not only have you dispatched of Anurel, but you gleaned the location of our whereabouts from her as well."

The blade's pressure against her throat eased slightly, and Llovesi's life stopped swimming before her eyes.

"I didn't kill her," she said. "I'm no assassin."

"So you think yourself different to us? Tell me, Llovesi, how many have you killed in your quest to become the Nerevarine, hmm?"

The blade lifted completely from her throat and Eno Hlaalu's face moved into view, his expression impassive.

Momentarily shocked, visions of Bolvyn Venim bleeding out onto the sand of the arena sprang into her mind. But there had been no other way. He had been bloodthirsty, proud and cruel, but equally a powerful leader, a strong fighter. And she had killed him, killed him like she had killed countless others since arriving in Vvardenfell...

"I think there is more blood on your hands than you care to realise," Eno Hlaalu said softly.

Her hand sprang to her dagger, but he caught it in a vice-like grip before her fingers even brushed the hilt.

"Ah-ah," he said, sounding almost amused. "Here I thought your senses had momentarily returned to you. So foolish. So arrogant. You come here then, expecting to... what? Kill us all? You wouldn't leave this room, I assure you. You may be wondering why I haven't killed you yet. I cannot take political sides in this role. Often I am curious about the targets we receive, but you are the first I've truly wanted to meet."

He moved back to whisper in her ear, still twisting her wrist painfully: "If I'd intended the writ to be fulfilled, Llovesi, I wouldn't have given it to our newest and weakest recruit."

He stepped back and watched it sink in. _So. A trap._ And she'd fulfilled all expectations by blundering straight into it.

"Why did you want to meet me?"

He dropped her wrist. "So, the Nerevarine. Or are you? And does it matter? I keep my eyes on the papers, and more besides. There are a lot of interesting stories about you, Llovesi, and about these prophecies. I think you're perhaps more notorious than you yet realise. You occupy a very delicate political position in a very precarious political situation. I was not surprised to receive the request to end your life. But I did want to hear your side of the story."

He let her wrist go and returned to his chair, lacing his fingers under his chin and watching her expectantly. It took Llovesi a while to realise that he was expecting her to speak. So speak she did, hesitantly, and mixing up the details due to stress, but becoming more confident as she recounted the story she had told so many times now: her claim to being the Nerevarine. And Eno Hlaalu sat and listened, his face betraying no reaction.

"So," he said, when she'd finished, "you can tell an interesting tale, at least. It is almost as intricate as a creation of the Webspinner herself. Now let me tell you something: I am loath to have to kill you. This leaves me with a problem.

"We do not refuse writs, generally speaking. Historically we have even played a part in aiding the Temple with False Incarnates. But I am not blind to Vvardenfell's situation. We might need someone like you. But will you be good enough? Tell me, Llovesi, why are you doing this?"

Again, Llovesi hesitated. Everything might hinge on the right kind of answer. She decided to tell the truth. "Because I can't run all over Vvardenfell convincing councillors and Ashkhans to name me Hortator and Nerevarine while simultaneously fighting off assassins. I'm only mortal."

Hlaalu waved an impatient hand. "I'd guessed as much. I meant: why are you following the Nerevarine prophecies?"

"At first, I was just following orders. Then, I started to wonder: maybe I could really help people. I've lost friends to Corprus, and I've seen how the Red Mountain threat has affected people's lives since I arrived here. If I can change that..." she trailed off, unable to think of a way to end her speech.

Hlaalu watched her over his laced hands.

"I see," he said slowly. "Llovesi, I'm going to make you a proposition: join us."

"Join... you?"

"It is part of our rules that no member may harm another member. It'd mean I remove the writ on your head. Of course, I can't guarantee that the person who requested it won't turn to other means, but you would not cross another Morag Tong assassin. And, I confess, you could be beneficial to us. You bested Bolvyn Venim in battle. You have... useful talents."

"I'd... I'd have to assassinate people?"

Eno Hlaalu's face suddenly split into an unsettlingly wide smile.

"Oh, yes," he said. "But you'll start as a probationer. You'll pass a test and then you can receive writs."

"Okay, I'll do it."

"Very well, here is a writ for the honourable execution of Feruren Oran. You can find him in the Elven Nations Cornerclub, which is in the Hlaalu Plaza. Slay him honourably and report to me."

He handed her the letter he had been writing and then looked her straight in the eye. She stared back into their blank, red depths, and shivered.

"Well, Llovesi, until we meet again. You may leave."

She turned to go, but then turned back, a question springing to her lips: "Grandmaster, who ordered the writ on my life?"

"I'll not disclose that. But I expect you'll be meeting him soon enough."

As she walked back through the corridor to find Julan, it struck Llovesi just what had been so disturbing about Hlaalu's smile when she mentioned killing.

Throughout their conversation, it was the only emotion he'd shown.

* * *

Julan was full of impatient questions as they left, but all Llovesi would say is that she'd managed to strike a deal with Hlaalu.

"But, _how_?" Julan asked in disbelief. "You didn't join, did you?"

"No. I guess he just saw my side of the story."

She debated throwing the writ Hlaalu had given her into the canal, but in the end she stuffed it to the bottom of her bag. She pulled her hood up, and they took the gondola back to the Foreign Quarter. The gondolier was still full of excitement about the earlier fight between Llovesi and Bolvyn Venim, saying that she'd managed to get time off work to see it. Llovesi pulled her hood closer to her face, while Julan politely engaged in conversation on her behalf.

On the silt strider to Balmora, Llovesi took her mind off the earlier events of the day by discussing her next steps with Julan. First they'd go to the council manor and find out the identity of the councillors. Then they'd pay a quick visit to Julan's camp, where they'd been leaving a lot of the pickings from their contracts with the Fighters Guild. From what Julan said, money was going to be a useful bargaining chip in their dealings with House Hlaalu.

This became evident from the very beginning. Nileno Dorvayn, the white-haired Dunmer woman in charge of business at the manor perked up considerably as her eyes took in Llovesi and Julan's armour and weapons; the amulets round their necks and the belts at their hips.

"Here's a recent edition of the Yellow Book of Great House Hlaalu," she said, practically tripping over her feet in her eagerness to help the wealthy-looking strangers. "It lists the current Hlaalu councillors and their residences. I might tell you more for a small consideration."

Llovesi shook her hand in thanks, and Nileno took the fifty septims from her palm.

"The one you should speak with is Crassius Curio," she said quickly. "His manor is in the Hlaalu Plaza in Vivec. Of the Hlaalu Councillors, he is one most likely to listen to your requests, whatever they may be."

So a return trip to Vivec was inevitable. This time there were five councillors to convince and all save one, Nevena Ules who lived in Suran, lived in or around Vivec. _Well_, Llovesi thought, _I'll just have to stay on my toes, and in my cloak._

The next day they collected some more money from Camp Kaushibael, stopping long enough to have a bowl of saltrice soup with Mashti, then made their way back to Vivec via Sadrith Mora.

The journey to the Hlaalu Plaza was unpleasant. It seemed every corner they turned there was a group of Ordinators patrolling. In the end, Llovesi avoided them with scrolls of invisibility, but the back of her neck was still slick with sweat, fearing they'd catch her in her brief moments of visibility.

She only breathed freely again when they entered Curio Manor. Julan, on the other hand, walked into the manor with an expression that suggested he'd just got a whiff of guar dung.

"Ugh," he said, "I think I'm going to slip over. This place feels so greasy and slimy."

A nearby clerk shot them a look that was full of daggers, and swept out of the room.

"Julan, please," Llovesi said, "at least let me try to talk to them before you insult them!"

It wasn't as if the manor was even that bad. True, it was no less opulent than the manors in Ald'ruhn had been. The table that the clerk had been sitting at was elegantly carved from a rich, red wood and surrounded by similarly delicate chairs. Intricate tapestries hung from the otherwise plain walls, and pale rose-coloured screens divided various sections of the room. Crassius Curio had to be an Imperial, and his foreign tastes showed. Llovesi's eyes swept over bowls of imported apples, liquors and Imperial silverware and understood Julan's frustration. It was the kind of display that screamed inconsiderate wealth.

But she wouldn't get anywhere if they simply stood around criticising the greed of the rich. Llovesi walked through to the next room and bumped into another clerk who was making notes in a ledger.

"Excuse me, can you tell me where Crassius Curio is please?" she asked.

The clerk didn't even look up. "Downstairs, last door on the right." she said.

Crassius Curio was eating his lunch. Reclining in his chair, he sipped wine from a goblet and carefully brushed pastry crumbs from his silken shirt. He was younger than Llovesi had expected, although his thick dark hair was starting to recede and his twinkling blue eyes were garnished with faint crows' feet. He finished his mouthful slowly, watching then, before speaking.

"Care for a sweetroll, sweetums?"

"Ex-excuse me?" Llovesi stuttered.

"Most recent arrival from Skingrad, none finer in the entire Empire. I know officially there's a quarantine, but I have my little ways. Can I tempt you?"

Llovesi felt herself stiffen in the face of such effusive familiarity.

"I really can't, I'm here to talk to you about something quite important."

Crassius Curio sighed, and placed the pastry back on the silver plate.

"It's always business, business, business these days. No time to sit with friends and guests and enjoy the simple pleasures of life. No one cares for the arts any more, no time for a glass of brandy and a quiet book. It's a sad state of affairs, pumpkin."

He straightened up and gave her an appraising look. Llovesi caught a glint of intelligence behind his eccentric mannerisms.

"So, dumpling, to business. I presume you're here to ask me to name you Hortator? Oh, don't look so baffled! There's a picture of you in this morning's paper. It does you no favours of course. But it does mention that the Redoran have named you their Hortator. How you won those stuff-pots over is a mystery to me, pumpkin, but I must congratulate you on your win against Bolvyn Venim. Most impressive-"

As Curio rambled on, Llovesi caught sight of the woodcut he was talking about in the paper on his desk; a Dunmer woman who she supposed might share a passing resemblance with. That wasn't good news.

"-so, it's a pity," Curio finished.

"What's a pity?"

"Oh, weren't you listening at all, sweetie? You want to be Hortator. Orvas Dren does _not_ want you to be Hortator. And very few councillors would be willing to risk Ser Dren's disapproval. But your exquisite vulnerability moves me to risk all, and defy Orvas Dren. Yes, sweetie, I will name you Hortator. But I have something to ask of you..."

He looked them both up and down lasciviously, and Llovesi's mouth went dry.

"Er, what do you want?"

"Just a small kiss, sugar."

He offered his cheek and tapped it lightly with his finger.

Llovesi gave in, trying hard not to look at Julan. "If that's all... all right."

"Oh, not from you, pumpkin! From him!"

Behind her, Julan made a noise like a rat being stepped on.

"I mean, you're fair enough, true, but have you seen his exquisite cheekbones? Such savage beauty! I-"

"Sera, would you accept this gift instead?" Llovesi asked, cutting swiftly across him before the situation could get anymore awkward.

Curio stopped rhapsodising and eyed the purse of gold she was holding out, then sighed.

"Very well, sugar. You've broken my heart. But in time it will mend. And in the meantime, I'll console myself with your gold. And now, pumpkin, it's time for your gift... And I have just what you want. In my formal capacity as Councillor of House Hlaalu, I give you my vote for the title of Hortator. Perhaps I can also give you a little suggestion?"

"Please."

"I am sure you can persuade Dram Bero to support you as Hortator... if you can find him. I only know that he lives somewhere here in Vivec, secretive chap. Orvas Dren has Nevena Ules and Velanda Omani in his pocket. You might want to make a little trip to the Dren Plantation before talking to them. And then there's Yngling Half-Troll."

"What about Yngling Half-Troll? And who is Orvas Dren?"

"Yngling Half-Troll is a foreigner like me, but he simply doesn't understand the Dunmer like I do. If you were to dispose of him, the other councillors would not be upset. If you kill any of the rest of us, of course, it is a different story.

"Orvas Dren, oh sweetie, you're going to have your work cut out. He's the head of the Camonna Tong and lives in a plantation in the Ascadian Isles. You may be able to bribe him or trick him. He despises the Empire, and I have heard rumours that he has made some kind of deal with the Sixth House. But he is also Duke Vedam Dren's brother. Think before you act, pumpkin..."

"Thank you," Llovesi said sincerely, but not without a bad taste in her mouth.

Curio waved an airy hand. "Not at all, sugar. And _if_ you manage to win everyone's support, just pop back and see Uncle Crassius, I'll have a little something for you."

They turned to leave, and the last they saw of Crassius Curio was him tipping the coin bag onto the table to count the septims, while slipping bite-sized pieces of pastry into his mouth.


	37. Two Sides of the Coin

**A/N: Wow, we're approaching the final third of this story now, and I'd just like to thank everyone who's still reading along, reviewing and sending me messages!**

_**Chapter 36: Two Sides of the Coin**_

Dren stared at the letter that had just been delivered again, and tore it furiously into tiny pieces. The contract refused? How _dare_ they.

He sat down heavily at his desk, his head in his hands, thinking. The note was still safe. That had been the first thing he'd run to check, when he heard the dying screams of Ranes and Navil. He'd stepped over them as they lay bleeding and pitiful on the floor, useless to him, and opened the small chest. The note was safe; it would never leave his sight again, and so the plot was still secret.

The Thieves Guild was, if his information was correct, currently leaderless. A moment of weakness: the perfect time to strike. And then there was his personal trip a few weeks ago, when he'd left without word of where he was going. Dren allowed himself a small smile when he remembered what had taken place in the heart of Red Mountain. Yes, all was not lost yet. Nothing more than a few setbacks.

Enough. Enough waiting in the shadows. Time for the Cammona Tong to reveal its true hand, its true allegiance. He would deal with this problem personally. Perhaps there was one more bargain to be made. And if not... Dren drew his blade carefully, and set about sharpening it with a whetstone.

She would come. She'd have to sooner or later. How soon depended on how intelligent she was. And he would be waiting.

* * *

Llovesi left Yngling Manor with a much lighter purse, but satisfied. Yngling Half-Troll had cut across her story to bluntly ask her for money, and when she gave it to him he'd given her his vote straight away. It had been much easier than expected, and she was glad that she hadn't had to kill him. Great House politics were leaving her feeling very uncomfortable.

"Right," Julan said, "so Dram Bero is up here somewhere too?"

Llovesi looked around the near deserted plaza of St. Olms. True, there were a few nobles busily moving from place to another, but there were also beggars: Argonian, Khajiit and Dunmer simply sitting on the floor with their hands outstretched. The plaza was a great deal shabbier than the Hlaalu Plaza had been. The flowers in the planters were wilting and there was only one lonely sweeper, continually brushing the same patch of floor. But they had been told in Yngling Manor that Dram Bero had frequently been seen walking around up here, so perhaps he did live nearby.

"It seems unlikely, but it certainly makes it easier if he is. I guess we should look around," she replied.

Unsure of where to start, they crossed the plaza and knocked on an apartment building door at random.

A Dunmer man in patched clothing opened it.

"Eh?" he mumbled.

"Er, yes," Llovesi started, feeling incredibly foolish, "you don't know Dram Bero by any chance, are you?"

The man's mouth fell open. "Do I look like I associate with Hlaalu nobles? Bother someone else."

He shut the door in their faces.

"Well done," Julan said, and snorted loudly.

"You can do the next one then!" Llovesi snapped.

But it was the same everywhere they asked. People had seen Dram Bero wandering around the plaza, but no one knew where he came from, or where he went.

"We need to ask someone who watches the plaza all the time..." Julan said thoughtfully, after many more fruitless attempts.

Llovesi scanned the plaza. "Like an Ordinator? _We're watching you... scum_," she hissed, appropriating a Vvardenfell accent, then laughed shakily. "I think that could be the end to my Hortator ambitions."

"No like..." Julan was craning his neck, then his eyes lit up. "Like a beggar. Be right back."

Llovesi watched him approach one of the Argonians by a planter and offer him some coins. At first the man flinched away, but presently Julan was sitting with him and talking animatedly. Then he came jogging back.

"He said the Haunted Manor," Julan said, and pointed. It was one of the buildings they'd knocked at, but no one had answered. "Apparently he comes out of there at night sometimes."

The door to the manor swung open easily, leaving Llovesi to wonder why they hadn't tried it before. Inside, the place was a mess. Cobwebs fell from the ceiling in long wisps and dust covered every surface. Plates were smashed on the floor, bits of books that had been torn to shreds decorated the tables. Barrels had been knocked over, their contents spilling across the floor. It was either the home of a dedicated vandal or a particular violent ghost.

Llovesi stepped forward cautiously, only for an entire shelf of plates to fall crashing to the ground. She jumped back, her heart in her mouth.

"Haunted Manor, hah!" Julan said, and bent down smiling. He picked something up from the floor and Llovesi had to squint to see he was holding a thin piece of string. "A tripwire," he continued. "Looks like someone doesn't want any visitors."

Llovesi wiped her sticky palms down and breathed in deeply. "Right, let's go and find the elusive Ser Bero."

They walked through the manor, noticing more and more how the mess looked more like deliberate neglect than the result of a haunting, until they came to a locked door down a set of stairs. It clicked open under Julan's spell.

The room on the other side couldn't be more different to the rest of the manor. It was clean and well lit; the two long dining tables in front of them were set for dinner. With redware crockery, Llovesi noticed, rather than silverware. Before she had a chance to notice any more, a burly half-naked Nord man stepped away from a door on the other side of the room.

"What are youse doing here?" he asked gruffly.

"We're looking for Dram Bero, we need to talk to him," Llovesi replied.

He seemed to consider this. "Okay. Dram is my boss. You want to talk business, talk to him."

He reached behind him and rapped hard on the door twice. A clear voice replied: "enter!" and the Nord held the door open for them.

Dram Bero was sitting reading, his brow creased slightly. He had a distinguished, intelligent, maybe even slightly poetic look, with his heavy brow and long dark hair. A soft blue light from a nearby planter filled with mushrooms illuminated his weary face. A Dunmer woman in chitin armour was stood at the back of the room, glaring at them with her arms folded.

"I take precautions to ensure that I am not found easily..." Bero said to his book, then snapped it shut and looked up at them with a smile. "I see I will have to take more precautions. But what can I do for you?"

"My name is Llovesi. I've come to ask you to name me Hortator for House Hlaalu. Crassius Curio and Yngling Half-Troll have already agreed."

"Hmm. I have heard your name. You have found me, and that means you are resourceful." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, then rose from his seat to shake her hand. "Yes, I will vote for you as Hortator. But my vote alone means nothing. That you have already convinced two others is good, but Velanda and Nevena are Orvas Dren's creatures, and they will do nothing without his approval."

"Thank you."

"Certainly. Was there anything else? You may find that I am not here if you return again, for I move my household around frequently, more so when I am discovered."

Llovesi asked if he would mark to Dren Plantation on her map, thanked him again and they left.

She pulled out the Yellow Book again once they were outside. "Three down, two, well three, to go," she said. "I think it's time I paid Orvas Dren a visit."

* * *

They saw the netch before anything else. It was a misty day in the Ascadian Isles, and the freezing Morning Star fog pressed against them on all sides. Llovesi could barely make out the tall Emperor mushrooms rising on either side of the twisting path. But the netch stood out, their vapour sacks pulsating a soft blue that penetrated the deep fog, giving the impression of lights in the distance.

"Come on," Llovesi said, her teeth chattering, pulling her cloak closer to herself. "We must be getting close."

A tall sandstone wall rose of out of the fog before them, and they could dimly glimpse tall wooden structures behind it. Then Llovesi felt a hard hand clamp down on her shoulder.

"You two, with me."

It was a heavy-set Nord man dressed entirely in fur armour. He was a mercenary perhaps, but definitely a guard. Llovesi glanced at Julan, similarly caught. _Was there any point fighting?_ Chances were if Dren was expecting them, it would be Dren they'd be taken to see. She shook her head, and so the two of them let themselves be pushed through the plantation.

They walked through rows and rows of slave shacks, with miserable looking slaves moving cargo. Recent rain had turned the hard ground to slush, so they shivered and slipped as they worked. Some were tilling in a nearby field, others walked among the nearby netch, tending to them, rubbing their tentacles down. Llovesi could hear instructions being called and, more often than not, the crack of a whip. She yearned to throw off the guard, to draw her spear and run the whole lot of them through. This was sickening. She caught Julan's eye and saw that he looked just as disturbed.

The guard lead them, with pushes and shoves, to a grand looking Hlaalu mansion in the east of the plantation. Llovesi could see other guards on top of nearby buildings peering down at them in interest, and returned their gazes with her head held high. She would not appear defeated.

A guard in Dwemer armour stepped forward, reminding Llovesi unpleasantly of Bolvyn Manor.

"These two need to go into the villa, Dren's orders," the Nord said, giving Llovesi and Julan a shove in the backs so that they slipped in the mud.

"Very well," the Dunmer man replied, taking a key from his belt and unlocking the door. "In front of me you two, and don't try anything, it'd be more than your miserable lives are worth."

The villa was warm, but there was no chance to appreciate it. The new guard led them to a small room with a solitary bench and left them there, locking the door behind him.

"Well, this is great," Julan said, throwing himself down on the bench. "Why did we let ourselves get captured again?"

"Because I don't think we'd have been able to see Dren any other way. He must have been on the watch for us. Don't you remember what Curio said: 'Orvas Dren does not want you to be Hortator'? And we're not dead yet, which must mean he wants to speak to us."

"Oh, hooray," Julan said and lay his head back against the stone wall.

They waited for hours before the door was unlocked again. A Khajiiti slave stood there, then beckoned them nervously.

"Are you taking us to see Dren?" Llovesi asked.

The girl flinched at being spoken to, then nodded imperceptibly. She led them up several flights of stairs, then motioned them towards a door.

Llovesi started to knock and it was pulled open before her knuckles could graze the wood a second time. Standing there was Orvas Dren.

"Leave," he said, his voice deep, and Llovesi realised he was talking to the slave, who scampered away with her tail between her legs.

"Enter," he said to them in the same firm tones, and shut the door behind them.

He was proud-looking and handsome, his dark hair backcombed so that it fanned out like a mane. Dressed in a full set of Orcish armour he had an undeniably fearsome presence. Llovesi reminded herself that she was talking to the brother of the Duke and the Kingpin of the Cammona Tong. _Be careful_. He crossed to a nearby desk and leant against it, submitting them both to a scrutinising look. Llovesi felt as though he was tearing off her clothes and skin, all to get a better look at the way she worked. She shivered, and a small smile curved his lips.

"So, Llovesi, you want to be Hortator of House Hlaalu. And you've come to me. You show unusual wisdom for an outlander. But what's the title of Hortator worth to you? Why do you want to be Hortator?"

She gaped at him. This was not how she had expected it to go at all. She searched for words desperately, wanting to tell him the right thing, and he watched her with his eyebrows raised, the same small smile playing about his lips.

"I believe... that Morrowind cannot continue the way it is."

He looked interested. "Go on."

"There are too many factions vying for this land, and they're ignoring the suffering of the people who live here. And while we fight among ourselves, there is a greater threat gaining power. I want to defeat Dagoth Ur, and bring peace to Morrowind."

"Peace?" Dren snorted. "You want peace? Like the peace of the grave we've had since the Tribunal betrayed us and signed the Armistice?"

"No!" Llovesi said quickly, seeing he was quick to anger. "No! Why would I ally with the Tribunal? They are liars and they murdered me, I mean Nerevar, all that time ago. They can no more protect Morrowind than a scrib could. And I'm not on the Empire's side either, whatever you may have heard. I have no allies, no ulterior motives."

As she spoke, she believed herself. It was true, the Empire had sought to use her as a pawn, but they didn't know what they had started. She could do this, and it wouldn't be for them, it would be for the people of Morrowind.

"I have long believed it was a mistake to turn from the old Gods," Dren said slowly. "Perhaps Azura is with you after all. And perhaps not. I will tell you that I've spoken with Dagoth Ur. He promised me the same thing. That he will drive the foreigners from our lands. But I am not one to ignore opportunity, nor am I one to be troubled by rubbing two sides of a coin-"

Llovesi went cold. Forgetting she was trying to negotiate, forgetting she was trying to be diplomatic, she burst out: "you've been to Dagoth Ur?"

Dren looked puzzled. "Yes. I don't see-"

"But he's the devil! The enemy! How can you talk of making deals with him as if it was as simple as just popping over to the council house?"

Dren sighed deeply. "Perhaps I mistook you," he said. "I had thought you beyond this. You yourself spoke of the need for unity. Why do we need Three Great Houses? This Hortator business must be so time-consuming for you. Imagine one Great House: House Dagoth, and all of Morrowind united against the Empire."

Llovesi was shaking with rage, unable to feel Julan poking her persistently in the side.

"He lies," she snarled. "Whatever he promised you: he lies."

"Is that so?" Dren moved towards her in a dreamy fashion. "You see, I have to make a decision now. Whether to support you, or to ally with Dagoth Ur. I have to say, I was getting my hopes up for a moment there, but you have disappointed me. You must be less impulsive, less quick to judge. It could be your downfall."

He was very close now, but Llovesi wasn't thinking straight. So it was Julan that saw the dagger, Julan that shouted: "Llovesi, look out!", Julan that pushed her out of the way, and it was into Julan that Orvas Dren's dagger sunk.

Llovesi snapped out of it in an instant. She kicked Dren back against his desk, and thrust her spear upwards, tearing into his throat. "Or your downfall," she said, and watched his handsome features set into an expression of puzzlement that would never leave his face again.

She dropped her spear and sunk to her knees beside Julan, who was gasping and coughing on the floor.

"Julan, Julan, no!" she gasped, and tore his shirt open. There was a gaping wound in the right-hand side of his stomach, and it spurted warm blood over her hands.

"Julan, I need to heal you, you're losing too much blood!" As the words left her lips, she went cold. She wouldn't be able to do it. What could she do? They had no potions, no scrolls. Foolish, foolish, foolish! She felt panic rising in her throat.

One of Julan's flailing hands caught hers, and he choked in pain. "Llovesi... let go..."

"No!" she shouted, tears in her eyes, "I won't let you go!"

Then she understood what he meant.

It had been the same all her life, and ever since she'd met Julan. She was either forcibly shutting her emotions off completely, or letting them overtake her. The former prevented her from using magicka at all. The second made her go too far. What she had to do was just... let go. It was the lesson she'd learnt in Balmora, after their first argument, but she'd never felt its urgency so keenly. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, then placed her hands over Julan's wound. _Feel and feel detached_.

"Heal," she said, and felt the magicka flow gently from her fingertips. She let it go until she had run dry, and saw the wound knit back together in front of her eyes. Julan coughed again, and his eyes fluttered open. He was pale, but he was alive.

"I thought I'd lost you!" Llovesi swept him into a bear hug. "Please, don't do that again!"

Julan smiled weakly. "I had to. You will go getting yourself into these situations. You're too important to lose."

"I may be the one who's going to try and save the world Julan, but I don't think I could live in a world without you in it."

They heard a small cough behind them. It was the Khajiit girl from earlier. They became aware of a general shouting downstairs. Someone must have heard the commotion.

"Run," the girl whispered, her voice hoarse.

"Come with us!" Llovesi asked, holding her hand out.

The girl's ears flattened against her head. "No, no, M'Risi stay here. You must run, before they come."

"Thank you," Llovesi said. They crossed to one of the greenglass windows, and broke it with a chair. Julan jumped first, clambering down the outside of the villa. Llovesi turned back, looking at Dren lying in his own blood. She'd really messed things up... but that didn't mean she had to continue doing so. She ran back and rifled through his pockets, finding a note and a key. She took them both. They would have to serve as proof, as persuasion for the last two councillors.

There were footsteps stamping up the stairs now, and M'Risi hissed. Llovesi turned on her heel and followed Julan through the window, onto a small balcony.

Night had fallen, taking the fog with it, and she could see the lake shining beneath the starlight. Julan was in the dewy grass below. She jumped down to join him, rolling, then they scrambled up the wall and dived into the lake. Behind them they could hear the screams and yells, no doubt as Orvas Dren's corpse was discovered.

They swam to the opposite shore and lay there panting and shivering, before lighting a fire and drying off. Llovesi looked at the objects she had taken. The key was small but heavy, engraved with the initials 'O.D' in Daedric letters. Surely that would be good enough for Ules and Omani. And the note... It had gotten a little damp, so she unfolded it carefully then read it by the light of the fire:

"_Ranes and Navil,_

_You have served me well over the years. My brother has been trying to stop our business. We've lost over half our shipments recently. The Duke may be my brother, but if he keeps interfering I am afraid he must be killed. I will be next in line and can consolidate my power before the Redoran even come up with a candidate. I am telling you this so that you know the risks you may be taking. If you are unwilling, I will accept your word of honour not to speak of our business. If you stay, I will reward you._

_D"_

Llovesi didn't know the recipients of the letter, but the meaning was loud and clear. A plot to kill the Duke. She looked up at Julan, whose eyes were wide, and swallowed.

"Maybe it's a good thing I killed him after all," she said. But she wasn't sure how much she believed herself this time. Sure, Orvas Dren had been a nasty piece of work, but she hadn't killed him for that. She had killed him because of her own temper. The Duke's brother, dead, and Julan nearly so, all because of her rash words.

They unrolled their bedrolls by the fire, and tried to sleep. Llovesi stared up at the constellations above. Tomorrow, if all went well, she would be named Hlaalu Hortator. _Two down, one to go_. She repeated the mantra in her head as sleep took her, and soon the only movement in the camp was the flickering of the flames besides them.


	38. An Unconventional Wizard

**A/N: *Waves* Hey Shadowvulpes, thanks for the follow and fav! So now we're entering the Telvanni portion of the Hortator quest. Hope everyone enjoys!**

* * *

** _Chapter 37: An Unconventional Wizard_**

Nevena Ules and Velanda Omani were almost tripping over their own feet to grant Llovesi the title of Hortator, meaning that she was back in Curio Manor before lunchtime.

Crassius Curio was delighted.

"All the councillors agree? Splendid! I'm so happy for you! What an honour! But no more than you deserve, pumpkin. And now, I have a little treat for you. It's a belt given to the Hortator of House Hlaalu. Just snug it around that supple little waist. Now, I know you have important things to do, but don't be a stranger. Don't neglect poor, lonely Uncle Crassius, your devoted admirer."

He handed her the belt: a thick blue sash with a large buckle, and she fastened it around her waist, trying to ignore Curio's wandering eyes.

They left for Sadrith Mora immediately, walking over to the Foreign Quarter to take the guild guide. As they were about to enter the Mages Guild, Llovesi saw someone familiar across the plaza: a stocky Imperial man with ruffled hair and beaten armour.

"Percius?" she called.

It was indeed Percius Mercius, about to enter the Fighters Guild. He looked round wearily, but smiled as Llovesi approached.

"Hello, Llovesi, Julan."

"How come you're in Vivec, Percius?"

"As it happens, I've just been promoted back to my old post of Guildmaster. Yes," he said in response to her shocked look, "things have been changing quite rapidly over the past few days. Hard-Heart is dead and we have finally shaken off the influence of the Cammona Tong. I'm fulfilling the post temporarily, until we can find someone more long-term. I was loath to leave Ald'ruhn in the circumstances but..."

"How is Ald'ruhn?"

"Fine. People are still recovering of course, but they're coping. It turns out that Hanarai was the main cause of soul sickness on the town. With her gone, people are sleeping a lot better. We've had a real stroke of luck in that we managed to find the cave the beasts came from, and neutralised the threat. Actually, that's my main focus at the moment, working with the legion to locate these pockets of evil, these Sixth House Shrines. If you have a moment, perhaps you'd like to help us? I see no point in continuing to give you ordinary contracts, Defender."

"I'm afraid not," Llovesi said. "I've got quite a lot on..."

"Of course," Percius said, his eyes travelling down to the belt at her waist, then back up to her face again. "Well best of luck, Llovesi. Don't be a stranger."

He shook her hand firmly and disappeared back into the guild.

* * *

Llovesi was glad when they arrived in Sadrith Mora and she could remove her hood. It was almost as if the Telvanni city existed in its own little world. People, for once, were completely ignoring her. She even stripped off her dark gloves, letting the Moon-and-Star and the Ring of the Hortator catch the sunlight. It was a fine early spring day, the sky a wispy blue and the sun a pale yellow. The atmosphere wasn't completely oppressive either. Maybe people didn't care, maybe they were ignorant of events on the mainland, or maybe they had just decided to get on with their lives. For whatever reason it was, the city was busy.

They walked through the crowded market, dodging people balancing purchases, and robed wizards haggling over apothecary ingredients. The scent of the sea air mingled with spices and the sight of the heaving crowds were a pleasant sensory treat for Llovesi. And then she saw them.

Slaves, being led through the market to a row of cages that spiralled up a mushroom root. Each shackled at the neck, ankles and wrists, their heads downcast, linked to one another with a thick chain that clinked and swung with every dragged step.

Llovesi felt sick suddenly, seized by an urge to leave. Maybe this place was no different from the mainland after all. "Come on," she said to Julan, "let's just get to the council house, let's get out of here."

It was her powerlessness that bothered her. When she and Julan had come across slaves in smugglers' caves (rare, true, but it had happened) she had no hesitation in freeing them and helping them on their way. Here, she would be breaking the law. Would she be able to change anything with the power of being the Nerevarine? She hoped so. It had to be worth something.

The council house was nearly impressive enough to make her forget these preoccupations. The mushroom building was nearly as large as the tower Tel Naga on the hill. It bloomed organically in all directions, an explosion of dark branches and bulbous white mushroom pods. A root bridge connected it to the path, decorated with carved arches that spiralled like an artistic rendering of the rays of the sun.

The atmosphere inside formed a peaceful contrast to the bustle of the streets. A cloying, earthy smell filled their nostrils. The air felt thicker somehow.

"So, the councillors don't even meet here?" Julan asked quietly, looking around the entrance hall with uncertainty.

"Yeah, but I need an ally right? I wouldn't have become Redoran and Hlaalu Hortator without Athyn and Crassius's help," Llovesi said.

But even saying it felt weird. How could she be the honorary war leader of two Great Houses?

"So I need to find out which Telvanni councillor is most likely to hear me out, and help me convince the others," she finished, speaking more to herself than Julan.

She fought to keep doubt from creeping into her voice. It seemed as if the hardest had been left to last. The Redoran were honourable and the Hlaalu could be bought but everything she had heard about the Telvanni suggested they just... wouldn't care. Other people's problems were beneath them. And they might be dangerous, more dangerous than the councillors from the other houses. A phrase of Nibani Maesa's fluttered to Llovesi's mind: _With wizards, there are no second chances._

"I'll just say Dagoth Ur will really mess up their research," she joked, and they entered the council hall.

She was hushed immediately by what lay before her. The hall was circular and dipped down in front of them, as if they were standing on the edge of a large basin. A basin carved from the same light golden wood that formed part of the Telvanni buildings. In the centre of the basin, a humming luminescent crystal structure spouted upwards, like a frozen fountain. The same crystal filled patches in the carved lattice of the walls, giving Llovesi the impression that they were standing underneath an enchanted spider web. Around the walls stood eight raised pedestals, of which six were currently occupied by Dunmer dressed in exquisitely beautiful robes. They stared straight ahead, not acknowledging the newcomers, even when Julan said in a carrying whisper:

"So these are the Mouths? Do you think they just stand here all the time? When do they sleep?"

Wait, no. One of the men closest to them smiled slightly at this, but the others kept still as statues, their backs straight, their expressions proud.

Llovesi didn't dare break the silence as easily as Julan had. The crystals vibrated loudly, filling the air with the chimes of an otherworldly song. She looked up at the Mouths, trying to meet their eyes, but she might as well have disappeared into the void of Oblivion for all the attention they were paying her. All except the one who had smiled. His eyes fluttered to them subtly, though he remained facing straight ahead.

Llovesi approached him. "Excuse me," she said, aware of how her voice echoed round the chamber. How did they ever conduct private business in here?

"Yes?" He looked down at her. "I am Galos Mathendis, the Mouth of Master Aryon. I do not recognise you."

"My name is Llovesi. I'm here because I want to be named Hortator by House Telvanni."

At this she felt the attention of the other Mouths centre on her, their gazes pressing down on the back of her skull. She carried on:

"I believe that I fulfil the Nerevarine prophecies. The threat in Red Mountain has grown too great to ignore. Vvardenfell is suffering, and will certainly face worse events if we do not all unite. And, well, Houses Hlaalu and Redoran have already named me Hortator..."

A small crease appeared in the middle of Galos Mathendis's forehead.

"That's not a pleasant story. And it means trouble is coming, for all the Great Houses. I'm afraid you'll have to speak directly to Master Aryon on a matter of such importance. His tower, Tel Vos, is north along the coast. You can probably get a ship to Tel Mora, then water walk west to Vos village and Tel Vos."

"He'll take me seriously?"

Galos smiled again. "Between you and me," he said, no doubt well aware of the other Mouths craning their necks to listen in, "my Master is... unconventional for a Telvanni. He is certainly open to new ideas. I think you could do a lot worse than him."

Llovesi thanked the Mouth and she and Julan left to take the next boat to Tel Mora.

They arrived late afternoon, as the sun grew low and orange in the sky, but decided to head over to Tel Vos to try and see Master Aryon before nightfall.

As they joined the few travellers heading west from Vos, Llovesi remembered the last time she had seen the tower of Tel Vos, just before she had met Mashti for the first time. It had struck her as confusing and almost... _wrong_. The Telvanni mushrooms were outlandish enough to her, but when they were combined with traditional Imperial construction, the differences and incompatibilities between the two were only emphasised.

It was no less bizarre on a second viewing. Great roots and branches punctured the stone walls of the fort, as if a great tentacled creature had decided to take up residence within its walls. At the same time, the fort seemed to absorb the fungal growths, although parts of the brickwork had clearly been left unfinished. In the battle between stone and flora, it was unclear who had the upper hand.

Llovesi stared up at the twisting mass above them. "I suppose he lives up there somewhere," she said, gesturing vaguely.

"You're looking for Talanian? Or Aryon?" It was one of the guards in the Cephalopod helms.

Llovesi nodded.

"Yes, they're both up there," the guard said. "Hope you know how to fly." She could almost hear the smirk he must be wearing behind his mask as he walked away.

Llovesi had never managed to master even a small levitation spell, and she didn't want to waste any time. She held firmly onto Julan's waist as he lifted them both into the air, and they rose up through roots and past stone towers to a small, carved platform next to a circular door.

It led into a cosy room with a thick plush rug and a staircase carved into the wall, which was otherwise empty. They took the stairs, finding a landing with a small table but there was still no one in sight.

Through a low-ceilinged tunnel they came across a young man working at a desk. He was dressed like most Telvanni Llovesi had seen: in elaborate robes. His were sea blue and his hair was cut fashionably, falling into his eyes as he wrote.

"Excuse me," Llovesi said politely, "we're looking for Master Aryon?"

"Certainly," the man said. "I'll fetch him for you."

He placed his quill carefully in the book he was reading and disappeared down some stairs. But it had scarcely been a minute before he was returning, alone.

"Er..." Llovesi started.

"And here he is!" The young man said, then gave her a mock bow, laughing.

"Oh, uh..." Llovesi was at a loss for words. "You're, uh," she bit her tongue before the words '_so young'_ could escape, "not quite what I expected."

"Really? You've met the other councillors?"

Llovesi felt her cheeks redden. "Well, no, but..."

"Then you are quick to judge, Llovesi. I have heard of you, yes. You are the outlander who wishes to be the Telvanni Hortator. We do not all sit in our towers growing our beards long and feeding our eccentricities. Some of us take an interest in current affairs."

Llovesi wondered briefly if he shared a psychic connection with his Mouth in the council house but as he spoke he pulled a sheaf of paper from under some books on his desk. She saw, for the second time that week, the face that was meant to represent hers blown up across the broadsheet. They'd got better at doing her nose. She wasn't sure how far she could trust Aryon either. He claimed not to be eccentric, but his welcome of her reminded her very much of another Telvanni wizard who'd enjoyed eccentric jokes. She made a mental note to visit Divayth Fyr while she was in the area. Well, being humble had worked with him, there was no harm in trying that tactic with Aryon.

"I should have been clearer, and less presumptuous. Master Aryon, if you have time, I would like to tell you my story and ask for your vote for Hortator."

Aryon waved his hand, inviting her to go ahead. She told him everything, the familiar words tripping off her tongue as he examined the Moon-and-Star shining on her hand.

"Yes, I understand," he said after a while. "You are willing to take the responsibility, and I am willing to vote for you as Hortator. I think the other Telvanni councillors will also cooperate, though some might need a little persuading. Master Neloth is ill tempered and Mistress Therana is losing her mind. You are not a male, so Mistress Dratha will like you. Archmagister Gothren is another problem. He will not refuse you directly, but will delay indefinitely. I recommend that you to kill Archmagister Gothren."

"You... what?"

"Archmagister Gothren never directly refuses requests; he just delays indefinitely, never giving an answer. I don't know of any solution, other than killing Gothren. I'll tell you plainly. I stand to gain if Archmagister Gothren dies. I say this so you won't think I'm trying to trick you. My advice is still good. Gothren won't name you Hortator, but he'll never come out and say so. And in House Telvanni it is customary to settle disputes in this manner."

Llovesi swallowed. Of the three Houses to name her Hortator, there would be three deaths at the end. Because she would kill Gothren, if that was what it took. She realised this about herself, and wondered what it made her? Callous? Heartless? Arrogant? She tried to put the thought out of mind.

"And Therana, and Neloth? Do you have any advice concerning them?"

"I would recommend utilising all of your persuasive skills. Mistress Therana has not aged well and becomes more eccentric every year, but you may be able to catch her attention somehow. Master Neloth has a short temper. He will listen to reason, but do not expect him to be polite."

Llovesi thanked him. Aryon marked the locations of the Telvanni towns she had not yet visited on her map, then bid her good luck.

"If, oh I'm sorry, I mean _when_ of course – _when_ you get the votes of the other councillors, come back and see me here: I'll have procured something for you," he said, waving her goodbye with a smile.

"Probably another 'Trinket of the Hortator'," Julan said glumly as they levitated back down the tower. "They're all going to be completely mad, aren't they?"

Llovesi shrugged. Certainly it seemed that the age and isolation of the Telvanni councillors made them more... unique in personality than the councillors of the other houses, but she wasn't sure if it was fair to call them mad.

"They're certainly different," she said. "I think they just have different priorities in life."

Night had well and truly fallen, so they made their way back down the hill towards Vos and rented a room at the Varo Tradehouse.

Julan was asleep in minutes, but Llovesi sat up in bed with her map spread on her knees, working by the light of a small candle. She traced a route from each Telvanni town, deciding where to visit first, who to try and convince before the others... It was evidently going to take her much longer this time, just travelling between the towns. The Telvanni settlements were all in Azura's Coast, on islands only accessible by boat. She traced a route in charcoal pensively. Maybe it would be best to leave Gothren till last. Whatever Aryon said, she didn't feel that announcing her presence by murdering the Archmagister was the best way to go.

Suddenly, she stopped, certain she'd heard something. But no, it was only Julan's gentle snores filling the room. Then the handle of the door turned, very slowly. Llovesi's blood turned to ice. Remembering the last time someone, or rather something, had tried to attack her in her sleep, images of long claws and ashen skin filled her mind and she was paralysed.

But there was nothing there. The door swung ajar slightly, as if it had been blown open by a silent breeze. But something had turned the handle. Then she saw it. A faint ripple in the air. A powerful chameleon spell.

Her spear was still leaning against the opposite wall. Llovesi grabbed her dagger from the nightstand and shouted: "Julan!" Then she ducked instinctively and felt something whistle through the air above her head.

The invisible assailant was upon her. Unable to see them, deep gashes were slashed into her abdomen; blood bloomed across her nightshirt. Llovesi hit out in vain and heard a hiss. Blood sprayed from thin air. Finding the right amount of concentration she sent a healing spell up and down her body, ducking and rolling to avoid the attacker's blade. She heard Julan yell an incantation, and saw him run over to the floor and grab whatever was there. He must have used a Detect Life spell.

The attacker became visible in his arms. Dressed entirely in deep black armour set with an impossible array of pockets and buckles, they held a lethal looking dagger in a make that Llovesi didn't recognise. Strangest of all was their helm. It covered their face entirely and was designed in the shape of a cowl, giving the impression of a faceless spirit.

The attacker stamped hard on Julan's bare feet, but instead of attacking him as he dropped their wrists, they flew forward and attacked Llovesi again. But she was ready this time. While the strange dagger bit into her arms, she used the attacker's momentum against them and flipped them back into the wall, then drove her own dagger up into their chin.

The room was a mess. Blood spattered the walls, the floor, the bed sheets, and Llovesi and Julan who stared at each other, half naked, as if they couldn't believe they were still alive.

"What was _that_?" Julan asked hoarsely.

"_Who_ was that?" Llovesi replied, in the same tone.

She reached out tentatively and pulled the cowl from the would-be assassin's face. It was a Dunmer; he'd died eyes wide-open, blood leaking from his mouth. The armour he wore, the dagger that had fallen from his hand, it was like nothing she'd ever seen before. He wasn't Morag Tong. She couldn't know this for sure, but she felt convinced that Eno Hlaalu was not a man to go back on his word. Besides, the armour, the weapons, everything was too outlandish, too brutal. Furthermore, Orvas Dren was dead, and it was probably him who'd ordered the writ against her life. This was something else entirely.

Behind them, a carved ebony dart still quivered in the wall.


	39. Diplomacy

**A/N: Thanks to FloridaMagpie for your continued support! I definitely found the Hortator and Nerevarine quests to be some of the most dull in the game - "go here, talk to people, kill a dude, repeat ad infinitum" - so I tried to spice them up a bit. Speaking of which, this chapter just about rounds off the Hortator section. Hope everyone enjoys!**

* * *

_**Chapter 38: Diplomacy**_

Berel Sala stood stiff and straight in his office, his face carefully emotionless.

To the lower-ranking Ordinator standing in front of him, this meant only one thing.

He was furious.

"So, Llovesi was in our city?" he asked in in tones so measured they would balance a pair of scales.

"Yes, I-"

"She consistently evaded your capture?"

"Well, yes, bu-"

"And now a mer is dead" He held up his hand to stop the Ordinator's protests. "Not a particularly nice mer. Maybe not even a particularly _religious_ mer, but nevertheless a life has been lost. And the murderer is still on the loose."

"Ser Sala," the Ordinator spoke quickly, "when we investigated there was every evidence of a fight. Blood by the door that can't have been Ser Dren's. Perhaps he wounded her and it was self defence..."

Berel Sala silenced him with a look, moving round his desk to come up to the younger officer's face.

"You think that matters in the eyes of Lord Vivec?" he whispered.

The other Ordinator had no response. Berel Sala leaned back, satisfied.

"You will increase the watches. I want Ordinators posted by every entrance and exit to the city, by every gondola. Increase patrols around the Temple, I'm sure Patriarch Saryoni is planning something, but if he does not trust his Head Ordinator-"

"Sera, we barely have enough Ordinators to cover morning and evening shifts-"

"Then call reinforcements from Ghostgate! Just ensure those watches are filled! She'll be back."

Berel Sala's temper ebbed back in, like the tide drawing back from the beach. He stared calmly out of his office window at the moonlight reflecting off the Ascadian Isles.

"I know she will."

* * *

Sleep escaped Llovesi and Julan for the rest of the night. Llovesi woke the publican to apologise, explain, and pay for the damage to the room. He seemed just as horrified as they were.

Llovesi considered taking the assassin's helm to a guard to identify it, but it was like nothing she'd seen on Vvardenfell before. Maybe they would be just as clueless as she was. Besides, it wasn't as if she had time to go hunting down another pack of assassins. She'd just have to hope the attack wouldn't repeat itself, and sleep in a light cuirass from now onwards.

They sat shivering on the beach, watching the grey sky lighten to white and the stars fade out, then they took the first ferry across to Vos. Julan then went to wait for the first boat to Sadrith Mora, having begrudgingly agreed to meet Llovesi there after she'd spoken with Mistress Dratha.

"I don't think we should bend to her sexist ways," he'd said with his arms crossed.

"I know, but I'd rather just get her vote for Hortator than debate with her about misandry," Llovesi had replied.

Still, it was lonely without Julan by her side and she couldn't help but be nervous about meeting her second Telvanni councillor.

The tower of Tel Mora dominated the island, with smaller rocks holding shops and homes adjoined to it by great, carved bridges. Llovesi bought a few levitation potions from Berwen, who was glad to see her again, but it turned out she wouldn't need them just yet. As she entered the upper tower, a Redoran woman directed her to a nearby passageway and told her just to follow it to the top.

Aryon's description did not prepare her for Dratha. She was not just old; age had dominated her body, time had bent her to its will. She wore a mask of deep, papery wrinkles and peered at Llovesi through pale pink eyes veiled with misty cataracts. An odd smell lingered around her, like bonemeal, or stagnant water.

"Are you the new serving girl?" she snapped suddenly, and her voice, although cracked, was still surprisingly sharp.

"No, I-"

"Well, who are you then?"

"My name is Llovesi, Mistress Dratha, I wish to have your vote for Hortator of House Telvanni."

Mistress Dratha started to shake, and it took Llovesi a little while to realise she was laughing. Her attendant patted her on the back hastily, but Dratha pushed her away imperiously.

"Oh, there's only one reason you would ask me that. Let me see..."

She waved her hands to cast a levitation spell, and floated lightly from her seat up to Llovesi, who, understanding what she wanted, held out her hand.

Mistress Dratha hunched over the ring, then let out another guffaw of laughter before floating back to her seat.

"So there's something to those old prophecies after all. Pig-headed Battlemages don't pay attention to Lady Azura's portents as they should. And you are the foretold Nerevarine? Quite a shock to those mallet-headed House Fathers, eh? Nerevar comes back... as a woman? Haw! Certainly. I'm quite happy to name you Hortator. Let me see, take these scrolls with you. Never know when they'll come in handy."

She snapped her arthritic fingers at the attendant, who unlocked a nearby chest.

"The Golden Saint ones, Sadela, and hurry about it. Lady Nerevar probably has some important business to get too. Oh you don't know how _satisfying_ it is to say that..."

Sadela passed Llovesi four scrolls, bowing down without looking her in the eyes. Llovesi thanked Dratha for the valuable gift and left almost as quickly as she'd come. _I hope it'll all be this easy_, she thought, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wouldn't be.

Julan was no less grumpy when Llovesi joined him the Halfway Inn in Sadrith Mora.

"What's the matter?" she asked, "not still brooding about social injustice are you?"

"No, it's these," he said, and brandished a handful of papers at her. "Hospitality papers. Stuffy prefect made me buy them before I could get any breakfast. 25 septims! Said we need them before we can do any business in this town, because we don't live here. But I got some for you too, just in case."

Llovesi tried to remember if she had ever down any business in Sadrith Mora before, but she didn't think she had. Come to think of it, she'd never seen anyone being asked for Hospitality papers either, and there were outlanders in the city. _Oh well, better to be safe than sorry_.

They climbed the hill and crossed the short bridge to Tel Naga, suspended above a crater. It was easily the largest and most impressive Telvanni tower she had seen, blooming with white mushrooms, shelf mushrooms and strung with glowing lanterns.

They entered what looked like a great hall, with a split staircase leading into a large chamber with tall, curved pillars.

"I bet that's where we need to go," Julan said, pointing at a golden door on a ledge across the hall. Sure enough, they watched as a clerk appeared from behind the door carrying a large bundle of scrolls and levitated down to the floor.

They flew across the room, and found a long vertical chute the other side. Llovesi squinted upwards, but couldn't even make out the ceiling.

"Looks like the only way is up," she said, and they rose past floors and floors of activity. Potions were being brewed, spells tested, papers written, but not once did anyone stop them.

At the top they found a short ramp, and beyond that, sitting on a throne on a small dais in front of an elaborate carved root design was the Dunmer that had to be Master Neloth.

He was reading with the book close to his face. A rather impressive beard tickled the pages, but his head was shaved bald, emphasising his prominent frown lines. He looked up and saw them waiting, and his frown deepened.

"How did you get up here? You can't be Telvanni: I've never seen you before in my life, and I don't care to now. Whatever you want, the answer is no. Vares, see them out."

He returned to his book as his blue-robed attendant hurried forward to push them back towards the chute.

"Please, Master Neloth, I need to talk to you urgently," Llovesi called hurriedly over the attendant's head. "It's about the role of Telvanni Hortator... I may fulfil the Nerevarine Prophecies... I have the Moon-and-Star..."

Master Neloth did not even look up. "What are you going on about? Prophecies, visions, superstitious jibber-jabber? Don't interrupt me with that nonsense. Go bother some bone-through-the-nose shaman or bug-eating wise woman."

Llovesi's temper flared, as surely as Julan's was at the 'bug-eating' comment. She pushed the spluttering attendant aside and strode up to Neloth, slamming her hand down into his book.

"It's very important," she said, before he could turn her into ash, "I may actually be the last chance Vvardenfell has. You know what will happen if Dagoth Ur realises his ambitions? Mass destruction, a lot of death, and _no more books_."

Neloth stared at her incredulously, his eyebrows shooting several places up his forehead. But she was impossible to ignore now, and maybe, just maybe, she'd piqued his curiosity.

"Is it really that necessary? Why doesn't anyone tell me about these things? So. Do you want the job? Are you qualified?"

"Yes. To both."

"Good. Then go ahead. I don't care. Be the Hortator. Now go away."

He removed her hand from his book as if she were sullying it, and returned to his reading. Satisfied that it would be the best answer she'd get, and frankly grateful that her impulsiveness hadn't cost her her life, Llovesi walked back to Julan and they left the tower.

They caught the ship sailing to Tel Branora just in time. It had started to rain, so they retreated inside to wait out the long journey.

The next morning, they awoke to more rain, and found that they had docked in small fishing village just on the outskirts of Tel Branora. They could see the tower in the distance, and dashed over to it.

The root ramp to the upper tower had become slick with moisture, so they climbed carefully. But when they entered the tower, dripping, Llovesi was hit around the head with such a powerfully disgusting smell that she wished she could turn around and go back outside.

Kwama eggs. Rotting kwama eggs. They were laid carefully on the floor, creating twisting paths. They were stuck around the edge of a large circular table. They were even attached to the walls, with candles jammed inside their shells forming bizarre lamps which added the stench of cooking eggs to rotting eggs. It was too much; Llovesi turned to one side and retched, tasting bile in her throat.

"I know Aryon said she was insane," Julan said in a low voice, "but I wasn't expecting _this_. Surely Sheogorath has taken her!"

Llovesi shook her head, and led the way up the tower. She had met plenty of eccentric people so far, but this obsession spoke of something beyond her comprehension.

Mistress Therana's chamber was at the very top of the tower. She sat, not on a chair like the other councillors, but on a cushion on the floor, her legs crossed, humming to herself and turning precious jewels over in her hands. She turned her head this way and that, seemingly utterly engrossed in the way the light reflected off the emeralds and rubies. Behind her a pungent fire was roaring, and as Llovesi drew closer she could see it was drawing its particular aroma from the books burning within it: the wax bindings were melting, the bright leather was wrinkling in the heat.

She had no attendant, rather a naked Khajiit slave watched his mistress apprehensively. Llovesi could see that his fur was mottled and patchy where it had grown over scars. Some looked fresh. Hating herself, she averted her eyes. Then she realised the humming had stopped.

Therana was looking up at her with interest.

"What are you here for?" she asked. "Are you here to feed the spiders?"

"No, Mistress Therana," Llovesi said without missing a beat, "my name is Llovesi and I'm here because I'd like your vote for Hortator of House Telvanni-"

"It's a funny sort of house, with all those glowing blue crystals all over it," Therana said conversationally, addressing the jewels in her hands, cutting over Llovesi as if she hadn't even heard her. "Did I ever tell you about when I was a little girl? I always liked going to the house. That's where everyone keeps their toys. Are you listening to me?" she snapped suddenly, her eyes widening.

Llovesi nodded earnestly.

"You'd better be. Yes, that's better. No need to do that. I'd offer you something, but I'm all out of kwama eggs."

"Er yes, but about being Hortator..."

"... it's a steel box, of course," Therana continued in the same dreamy way as before. It was as if she was responding to a different conversation, from another time. "You keep things like bittergreen roots in it, keeps 'em fresh, with a little netch blood. Or is that a hormador? Yes. Or spiders. In the box. Spider eggs. Keeps 'em fresh. With netch blood. You wouldn't have any with you, eh? Spider eggs? Nice fresh ones?

"So, go ahead. Show me the hordador. Hormador? You got it with you? Always happy to get some fresh spider eggs. Or spiders? When I was a _much_ younger, we grew our own spiders... In hormadors. Big ones. Needed 'em big, for the spiders. What? Spiders? You listening? Spiders. That's what I said. Big ones. So you need a big hortator. Ours was steel, with silver plating. Kier-jo used to polish it. Cute little kitty. Had it since it was a bitty kitty. Gone now, of course. Dropped dead. They get old, and you have to get new ones. Never quite as good as the old ones, of course, but what can you do. Oh! There you are, Llovesi! What was your name again? Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, I am," Llovesi said politely, somewhat stunned that Therana had momentarily recalled her name.

It was as if she was jostling between two personalities, a dreamy child-like innocence and a sharp Telvanni mistress, and the two did not seem to understand one another. She paused as if listening to answers and responded where none were given.

"But really, I do need your vote for Hortator," Llovesi said, almost pleading.

"Who wants to talk about hormadors?" Therana said dismissively, turning back to her jewels. "That's boring. It's so boring here, with no one to talk to. Except Tilami Heralo. And Monosa Darys. And Muldroni Rendas. And whasshisname, Bals Tadrus. And all they talk about is themselves. It's so dreary. If only they'd do something smart. Or surprising. Or funny. Or something to do with spiders. But, no. Just..." and suddenly her head slumped and the jewels fell from her hands and scattered across the floor.

That gave Llovesi an idea. Remembering what Aryon said about entertaining her, she snapped her fingers under Therana's nose. The Tevanni mistress jerked up and stared at her in confusion.

"Watch this," Llovesi said, wiggling her fingers slowly. She showed Therana how her rings caught the light, moving her hand back and forth slowly. Then she withdrew her hand sharply, noticing how Therana's eyes followed it as if she were hypnotised. Not the most exciting of displays, but it seemed to delight Therana, for she clapped her bony hands suddenly, and squealed.

"Goodness. Where did you learn how to do that? Can you do it again? Oooo! Very pretty! Do it again! Oh, please? Please?"

"I will, if you name me Hortator."

"Oh, certainly. I have a hormador around here somewhere, if you'll just... Oh!" and her eyes grew round suddenly, "you want to _be_ a Hortator? Certainly. Go right ahead. Right after you do that thing again. That's amazing! Oh, goody, goody..."

Llovesi obliged and displayed the rings a little more, then gave a small bow and left the Telvanni councillor to her gems. She had definitely said yes, and that was all that mattered.

Now there was only one more councillor to visit. Archmagister Gothren.

* * *

The trip to Tel Aruhn seemed agonisingly long. When they were aboard the final ship of the day, a small craft so designed as to easily navigate the large jutting rocks of Zafirbel Bay, Llovesi finally voiced the plan she'd been chewing over in her mind.

"I'll ask him to name me Hortator first. I think we should go by the book, at least initially. He'll refuse me. Then we attack. Our best chance is surprise. Throw everything we've got – I've got the scrolls Dratha gave me, and more besides. I can throw off a controlled fireball now. You're getting pretty good at summoning skeletons. We just need overload him enough to get a direct hit in. These mages are powerful, but don't seem too fond of armour."

She sounded confident, it was true, but Llovesi felt her arrogance might turn out to be just as foolhardy as a Telvanni councillor armoured in cloth. She was talking of murdering the head of House Telvanni with ruthless calculation. And it was not a great plan. It wasn't even an adequate one. But it was all they had.

The tower at Tel Aruhn was lit up like a tree at Saturalia. Strung with pink, green and yellow lanterns it seemed far too joyous for the scene that was about to take place.

They made their way up the tower to a large flat balcony, like a saucer. From here, a steep spiral staircase led into the upper tower. It was quiet in the twilight. A woman working at a desk didn't even raise her head as they walked in.

Master Gothren was sitting upstairs, sipping a glass of greef through pursed lips. Everything about him was the picture of casual opulence, from his oiled hair to his rich purple robes, gathered at the waist with a heavy ornamental belt, to the two Dremora flanking his throne. Llovesi hadn't been expecting them. She swallowed and something stuck in her throat. A vein was sticking out on Julan's forehead.

"What do you want?" Gothren drawled, twisting the words casually over his tongue as he savoured his drink.

"Master Gothren, I'm here to ask you to name me Telvanni Hortator."

He swirled his drink around his mouth and swallowed slowly and deliberately, then made a great show of placing the goblet at his feet and lacing his fingers.

"No. Wait. Let me think... Yes. I understand perfectly. But a decision on such a remarkable matter is a grave responsibility, and not to be taken in haste. I will need some time to reflect and consider, and to confer with the other Telvanni councillors. Leave me."

"I'm afraid it's a little more urgent than that," Llovesi said, her knuckles whitening around her spear.

Gothren brows knotted suddenly and furiously. "As any educated Dunmer knows," he said tersely, "all the Telvanni councillors would need vote to choose a Hortator, and the vote would have to be unanimous. It's an archaic tradition, not invoked since I was an apprentice. Since a Hortator's duty is to lead a Great House in war, and we haven't had a war in a very long time, we have no need of a Hortator. I said, I will need some time to reflect and consider, and I told you to leave me. Don't make me repeat myself."

He sat with his arms folded, glaring at her, as immobile as stone. _It was now or never_. But time seemed to freeze. Llovesi felt for her telepathy ring as if in a dream. She touched it, and thought only one word.

_Duck_.

She felt, rather than heard, Julan slam into the ground next to her, and she summoned up every last drop of magicka and let it out. It was one of the biggest fireballs she had ever produced.

Control gave her intense heat, rather than a sudden explosion. Gothren and the Dremora were blown backwards immediately in a rush of burning air. The tapestries above him caught fire and fell, trapping their opponents beneath heavy, flaming fabric.

Llovesi grabbed her scrolls and summoned a Golden Saint; Julan was on his feet next to her, a skeleton forming in a shower of sparks.

But Gothren was still alive. Before their eyes the tapestries froze by magic, and he shattered them with a dagger. His hair was nearly completely singed off, and rage filled his eyes. One of the Dremora had died, but the other had drawn a massive war hammer and was circling round them. Llovesi's Golden Saint ran to engage it. She was glad; surely the Dremora was Gothren's summon. If he died so would it, and it was Gothren she needed to focus on.

She lunged with her hands, ready to transform a scroll into a deadly frost spell. But Gothren simply caught her wrist and something very strange happened. She couldn't move. Every single one of her limbs was locked in position: a surreal statue in the midst of a raging battle. She could only watch helplessly as the Dremora bludgeoned her Golden Saint to death, as Julan's skeleton was reduced to ash by a powerful flame spell from Gothren.

She could hear shouting from below: obviously they had lost the element of surprise and the rest of the tower was now reacting to the battle. Would they come to Gothren's aid? Did Telvanni loyalty work that way? He didn't even need the help...

She barely registered as the Dremora's war hammer thudded into her side, although it had surely done a great deal of damage. Maybe being paralysed numbed pain. It had certainly numbed her thoughts, reducing her to dull observation.

Julan was dodging spells and war hammer blows alike. In the heat of battle he hadn't even noticed her predicament. Suddenly she was released: the spell had worn off. Dizzying pain brought her to her knees, fortunately, as Gothren's next spell flew over her head, hitting the woman from the desk who had just appeared at the top of the stairs. She was ash before she had time to shriek.

From her position on the floor, Llovesi swiped at the Dremora's legs with her own, tripping it up. Clutching at her side, she drew her dagger and slashed viciously at its exposed throat. It vanished.

The dagger dropped from her hand. Her other hand was covered in blood. The room was swimming. She didn't know where Julan was. She saw Gothren though, and blue healing sparks flew up and down his body, his burnt and torn skin was knitting itself back together. She had to end it.

She found her spear with her left hand, the side that didn't hurt. And she threw it, hard and with her last hope. Maybe Azura was with her in that moment, for it found Gothren's throat, and with it took his life.

He collapsed, with an expression of shocked fury even in death, onto the still flaming pile of tapestries.

The shouts seemed to intensify. Surely hundreds of people would soon descend on them. She felt hands pulling at her, voices telling her to move. Then a sharp pain in her side brought her back to reality.

Gothren was dead. Julan was still alive, trying to get her to move. She was still alive. She looked down, and sorely wished she hadn't. Two ribs, ghostly white, punctured her cuirass. Steeling herself, she pushed them back, healing as she went. It wrenched a scream from her, sweat burst on her forehead and _oh Gods it hurt! _but she couldn't run with broken ribs.

And run she had to.

"Come on!" Julan shouted, pulling her spear from Gothren's body, and they turned and ran, pushing past the astonished clerks who were too shocked to stop them. They hurdled the banister, wrenched open the door and jumped into the night air.

Julan cast a levitation spell half way down, and flew them safely to the ground. He hadn't let Llovesi go from his arms. Behind them, the still night of Tel Aruhn had erupted into confusion. But no one was coming after them. Maybe it was as Aryon had said. This was simply the way the Telvanni did business. This had been recognised.

"I see you're really getting into this whole Telvanni diplomacy thing," Julan said weakly, and gave a hollow laugh. They'd made it, almost literally by the skin of their teeth.

Now Llovesi could become the Hortator of all three Great Houses. This would end tonight.

"Okay," she said, finding her breath and her resolve. "Let's go back to Aryon. I'm just about finished with Vvardenfell politics."


	40. The Bellicose Ball

_**Chapter 39: The Bellicose Ball**_

Although it was well past midnight when they returned to Tel Vos, tired but triumphant, Master Aryon was wide-awake and waiting for them.

"I see you've gathered the votes of all the, ahem, 'surviving' Telvanni councillors," he said with a knowing smile. "That means you are now the Hortator of House Telvanni. And I have something for you."

He pulled open a drawer in a nearby wardrobe, and withdrew a carefully wrapped package. He undid it, letting the fabric fall to the ground.

"It's called the 'Robe of the Hortator.' It is an ancient artefact, and hasn't been used in centuries. But I think you'll be pleased."

Llovesi was. She took it from him in awe. She had never seen such a striking item of clothing in her life. It was ebony-black, although other subtle inky shades moved in the threads, and fitted with a crimson sash that matched the lining of the hood. The sleeves were brocaded in delicate gold threads and the whole robe scintillated with enchantment. She unceremoniously removed her ratty travelling cloak and swung the robe around her shoulders. It had clearly been tailored for a man, but luckily she was tall enough to just about carry it off.

Aryon watched her with a smile. "I wish you luck, Hortator. I may even pray for you."

* * *

The Fourth trial complete, it was time to leave the cities and return to Nibani Maesa for guidance on the Fifth Trial. Before recalling to the Urshilaku camp, Llovesi and Julan paid a visit to Divayth Fyr.

He greeted them with an excited roar, before inviting them to an early lunch and to share their adventures. It was then that he informed them with regret that the potion that had cured Llovesi had so far killed two other inmates.

Llovesi was disappointed too. She'd had half-baked plans swimming round her head, plans of somehow inoculating Great House mercenaries against Corprus and sending them to hunt out Sixth House bases.

"Still, you following these prophecies, and so neatly too – that's a turn up for the books!" Divayth boomed, and guffawed. "We live in interesting times! I'll wager you're quite the talk of the island, eh? Don't let the power go to your head now. No taking advantage of my daughters!"

Nibani Maesa gave them a far more reserved greeting, although Llovesi could sense excitement beneath her words. _Has any Incarnate come this far before?_

"You have been named Redoran Hortator, Hlaalu Hortator, and Telvanni Hortator, and you have passed the Fourth Trial. Now you must be named Nerevarine by each of the tribes - Urshilaku, Ahemmusa, Zainab, and Erabenimsun."

"I would hear your council on the other three tribes, Nibani Maesa."

The wise woman nodded.

"The Ahemmusa of the Grazelands are mild and peace-loving. I have heard the Ahemmusa are in a pitiful way, and that they do not have an Ashkhan. In this case, the wise woman may be acting as the chief of the tribe, and perhaps she can speak for the tribe to name you Ahemmusa Nerevarine."

Julan gasped loudly beside Llovesi.

"Gah! Of course, I forgot I'm the Ashkhan now! That makes this easier, Llovesi."

Nibani Maesa, for the first time since Llovesi had met her, looked shocked. Then she regained her composure.

"You are the Ashkhan of the Ahemmusa? Truly there is more to your travelling companion than meets the eye, Clanfriend. You should return to your tribe to make the announcement," she said to Julan.

"This leaves you with two tribes to meet. The Ashlanders of the Zainab tribe are sly and crafty and their Ashkhan, Kaushad, is a strong and popular chief, but he is known to be vain and hard headed. To persuade him to name you Zainab Nerevarine, you must be strong, yes, but you must also be clever, to please him and earn his favour. The Erabenimsun of Molag Amur love themselves and their weapons above all else. Their Ashkhan Ulath-Pal is cruel and ambitious, and his gulakhans are just like him. It is a difficult problem. Only the Ashkhan can name you Nerevarine. But this Ashkhan may not be willing, and even if he were, he is a bad chief, dishonourable, and not to be trusted. I do not know what you should do. Speak to the tribe's wise woman. Perhaps she will give you counsel."

Llovesi thanked her profusely and left to speak with Sul-Matuul.

"So you have returned," he said as she entered his yurt. "It has been nearly two weeks, Clanfriend. Tell me of your travels."

"I have been named Hortator of all three Great Houses. This is the Robe of the Hortator, from House Telvanni, the Ring of the Hortator from House Redoran, and the Belt of the Hortator, House Hlaalu."

"So you have passed the Fourth Trial. I greet you, Hortator. And now you wish to be called 'Nerevarine.' I know you, and am disposed to do so. But first we must speak of need and duty. Before I name you 'Nerevarine,' you must understand why a war leader is needed, so you may tell others. And before I name you 'Nerevarine,' I must see that you know your duty. Only when we have spoken of these things shall you be called Nerevarine.

"You have learned the lies of the Tribunal and the false hope they offer of protection from Dagoth Ur. We have heard the priest's own words of the Apographa, and we know them to be true. We have heard the words of the Dissident Priests, and we know them to be true. The False Gods have broken their promises, and have taken up the tools of the Enemy. This is a great evil, and a great danger.

"From the unmourned house have come forth the seven curses. The Sixth House is a great evil, and a great danger to all people. This is the need. You have seen this need. You have fought the Sixth House. You have known the curse of Corprus. You have harrowed Kogoruhn, and seen the darkness that lies within. When you tell your story, others may be shown the proofs.

"Know the words of the prophecies. The curse of Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House threatens our land. The False Gods lie, and offer false hope of protection. You bear the Moon-and-Star of Nerevar. Azura's hand is upon you. These are the proofs you must show to all people as Urshilaku Nerevarine.

"You shall be Nerevarine of all the tribes, and Hortator of all the Great Houses. You shall eat the sin of the unmourned house, and free the false Gods. You must defeat the Sixth House, and Dagoth Ur. You must free the Tribunal from their curse. This is the burden of prophecy. This shall be your duty as Urshilaku Nerevarine."

He had spoken a great deal, and now Sul-Matuul fell silent and watched Llovesi gravely as the weight of his words sunk in. When he spoke again, it was to ask a simple question: "Are you ready?"

"I am."

"Very well, come with me."

He stepped outside the yurt, and called in a loud, clear voice: "Urshilaku, gather round! Your Ashkhan has words for you!"

He walked to the centre of the camp, where the muck pit bubbled, Llovesi and Julan following. All around them, curious Ashlanders were gathering, old young, excited, nervous. Llovesi saw Kurapli and her children, Zabamund, Tussurradad and countless others besides. Even Nibani Maesa was leaving her yurt, to stand at the back of the growing crowd.

Sul-Matuul held his hand in the air and the low buzz of confused chatter died down.

"Before my hearth and kin, and before the People of the Wastes, Llovesi, I name you Urshilaku Nerevarine, War Leader of the Urshilaku, and Protector of the People. In token of this, I give you the Teeth, which shall be a sign to all Dunmer, that you are the Nerevarine, and that the Urshilaku shall follow you, in all things, even unto death, until the Enemy is defeated, or until you are dead, or until you give this back into my hand."

He unclasped a pendant hanging round his neck and passed it to Llovesi, clasping her hands in his. It was black and set with a ruby; five polished animal tusks formed the points of a star. Llovesi placed it solemnly round her own neck, and the tribe erupted into cheers.

Llovesi spent the rest of the day, and the whole of the next, with the Urshilaku, hunting, cooking and gathering. The tribe accepted her as their own now, albeit with the sort of reverence usually reserved for an elder or warrior.

It was this acceptance that told Llovesi she finally belonged; the sense of community that was missing in the towns and cities she visited, despite all their grandeur and beauty. The Ashlands were undeniably ugly and harsh, but they were real and somehow their unforgiving nature felt honest to Llovesi. Or maybe it was just the simple fact of being free: in the fresh air, in nature, after spending eight years of her life behind prison bars.

It was true that Llovesi rarely thought about her time in prison, but when she did it was only to marvel at how far she'd come, how different her life's path now was. Often her thoughts turned to the Daedra Prince Azura (they were turning less and less to the Nine Divines) and the ideas of destiny and manipulation, but she was grateful despite the hardship. She had a purpose, her health; people who liked and wanted to help her and a loving partner in Julan. How ironic that just as things in the world seemed bleakest, her own life finally seemed to be on track.

They set off for the Ahemmusa next. Julan realised that he didn't have any tribal artefacts to just hand out, so they visited Sinnammu Mirpal first.

"Yes, Julan may indeed name you Nerevarine if he so chooses," she said, but paused, as if she wanted to say something else.

"... Llovesi, Julan you have already done much for the Ahemmusa. You have found the Amulet of Ashamanu – yes, Urshamusa Rapli told me of her vision – and now we can heal when we are sick. You have found the bones of Han-Sashael, and we have the protection of his powerful spirit. But we are still at risk here. Blight monsters still attack, and we have few strong warriors. I would ask a favour of you, before I entrust Julan with the Madstone."

Llovesi didn't even hesitate. "Of course."

"The Ahemmusa need a safe place. In seasons past, when threatened, the Ahemmusa could take shelter in the ruins of Ald Daedroth. It is a shrine to Sheogorath, the Mad Lord. The surface ruins are on an island a great distance north as the racer flies. But now the priestess Hlireni Indavel has come and restored the Daedric shrine, and worshippers of Sheogorath dwell there, protected by terrible sorceries and summonings. Please, go to Ald Daedroth and make it safe for the Ahemmusa. Then return, and I will accompany you there to make preparations for the relocation. I will then also give Julan the Madstone of the Ahemmusa, to present to you in front of the tribe."

* * *

The fresh morning sun hung in the sky, basking the ground in early spring warmth as Llovesi and Julan walked north and downhill to the beach.

For a while the only sound was their boots crunching over small shells. Then Julan, who had been biting his lip, spoke up:

"I'm really not sure about this," he said.

Llovesi was surprised. "Really? But you didn't say anything. You are Ashkhan, can't you just tell Sinnammu you think it's a bad idea?"

He looked even more pensive. "Well, I didn't say I thought it was a _bad_ idea. But maybe I do. I don't know. Sinnammu effectively led the tribe after my f-after Han-Sashael died. I trust her judgement, even if she is kind of old. But a Daedric ruin..."

Llovesi pulled a water-walking potion from her pack. "I didn't think it would be easy," she said, "but don't we owe it to your tribe to check it out?"

"I guess," Julan said, and sighed deeply. "I don't know how I'm ever going to be Ashkhan when I can't even make decisions like this. There's just too much... expectation."

They stepped lightly onto the water and strode continually northwards. Llovesi looked down at the water, staring into the murky depths at shoals of slaughterfish and the occasional dreugh, but her mind was firmly on the Daedric ruin that awaited them.

She had never been in one before, though they had passed the strange, twisting crimson structures plenty of times, always keep a wide berth. What would they be like inside? What traps would be lying in wait?

They skirted small craggy islands bereft of vegetation, save scrawny mushroom trees that clung determinedly to the rock, then after they had been walking on the waves for at least an hour they saw the characteristic red stone jutting on the horizon.

They stepped onto the beach, strewn with lumps of crimson stone that jutted out of the sand like haphazard pillars. No sooner had their feet touched the sand than they heard shouts and a far off explosion.

They both drew their weapons without a word and crept silently inland.

A blue-robed Dunmer and an Orc were flinging spells at each other. The Dunmer's robe fell open, revealing some familiar golden armour.

"Ordinators _and_ worshippers?" Julan whispered in disbelief. "This is going to be a safe place for the Ahemmusa? I'll believe it when I see it."

The Ordinator summoned a Greater Bonewalker in a flash of sparks. It stepped up to the backpeddling Orc and in one swift and grisly movement, separated his head from his body.

The battle over, the Ordinator dismissed his summoning and adjusted his robe with a grim smile. Then he looked up and noticed Llovesi and Julan.

"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously, raising a flame spell in his hands. "Are you here to worship at this foul shrine?"

Llovesi gaped at him, at a loss for words. Next to her, Julan spoke:

"No, we're adventurers. We're here to loot the shrine."

The Ordinator dropped his spell.

"All right, then. We don't care about that. In fact, you'll be doing us a favour if you kill a few witches and warlocks in the process. Just be careful, leave us alone, and we'll leave you alone."

He walked off round the side of the ruin, leaving Llovesi and Julan standing by the crumbling steps that led to the entrance.

"Good thinking," Llovesi said, and keeping their weapons held aloft, they ducked through the warped oval doorway into the ruin. Thank Azura he hadn't recognised her.

The pale sunlight barely penetrated the angular corridors of the ruin. Maybe it was some facet of the twisting red stone that prevented natural light from entering; maybe the stone itself absorbed light: either way, Llovesi felt as if she were stepping into the gaping jaws of a Daedra itself. Over the teeth, and down the throat...

She pulled a torch out and lit it with a trembling hand. The flickering light threw the walls into harsher contrast, but at least she could now make out the angled steps leading diagonally downwards. The steps ended in a cavernous hall, lit by braziers. There were a few crumbled pillars, but it otherwise seemed safe.

"Well, it's certainly big enough!" Llovesi said.

Julan just shook his head. "Living in a shrine to Sheogorath? We're all going to go mad!"

Suddenly, there was a yell. One of the shrine's occupants, an Orc, had just walked through a far archway and spotted them. She was running towards them with a mace held aloft when an Ordinator ran in from the wings and intercepted her.

Llovesi and Julan knelt behind a section of broken off pillar, listening to them fight.

"Do you reckon we just wait for the Ordinators and worshippers to finish each other off?" Julan asked.

"We could do," Llovesi said, "but we don't know how long that'll take. This place could be huge. I think we should find the priestess Sinnammu mentioned and see if we can convince her to leave, and take the others with her. No cultists, no Ordinators."

The hall had fallen silent. The slain Orc was lying on the floor, but there were yells and sounds of conflict echoing from deeper in the ruin. They headed for the back archway, where the Orc had appeared from.

"Maybe bring some tapestries and rugs to cover the bloodstains..." Julan said.

The next chamber was slightly flooded. Splashing around in the ankle-deep water, a female cultist was fighting with an Ordinator. She succeeded in paralysing him and under the cover of her triumphant yells, Llovesi and Julan snuck past, ducking behind the large statue of Sheogorath that dominated the room.

The battle in the next room was already over. They stepped over dead bodies pooling red clouds of blood into the water and followed the stairs to higher ground. There were still the sounds of a large fight coming from above.

They climbed the last few steps, and found the battle.

Expect that it wasn't a battle. At least, it didn't appear to be one in the conventional sense.

The room was filled with waltzing couples, all dressed brightly and in mismatched armour and full-face helmets. There was no music. Then, on some apparently universal signal, the dancing partners let each other go, drew spiked maces and viciously beat each other across the face, in the arms and legs, anywhere they could hit. The silence was replaced by the rhythmic thudding of mace against flesh, by screams of pain... and delight. Blood splattered the walls. Every now and again, a partner would duck out, drinking a healing potion or casting a healing spell. A new dancer would replace them. Or were they combatants? Llovesi couldn't figure it out. There were no Ordinators here. The bodies of those who had failed to heal themselves were being trampled into the stone floor by the waltzers' enthusiastic steps. There were people leaning against the surrounding walls, drinks in hand, apparently watching the show.

Llovesi craned her neck over the thronging crowd, and glimpsed a makeshift bar towards the back of the room. She dragged Julan through the crowds, hitting the ground and crawling when the maces started swinging.

At the bar, they found a few people leaning over the wooden table talking to... Llovesi blinked. Yes, they were talking to a scamp. And the scamp was talking back.

"Two sujammas," it shrieked in a voice that was more grating than steel scraping on stone. "Who ordered two sujammas?"

Llovesi tapped an Orc on the shoulder. "Excuse me, I need to speak to Hlireni Indavel. Do you know where she is?"

The Orc turned around and gave them a questioning look. "Meow?" he asked, actually pronouncing the word.

"Right..." Llovesi said.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Do you have your invitation? Are you a Player of the Game? Or one of the Game Pieces? Or a humble Spectator?"

It was a Dunmer woman in bonemold armour with some impressively large pauldrons. She flicked her cropped hair from her eyes and grinned at Llovesi.

"Our... invitation?" Julan asked.

"Were you summoned?" the woman asked. "Or do you come of your own free will? It hardly matters... the party is open to all. But make sure you pay your respects to the host. And grab a drink from Lustidrike. Then feel free to mingle with the other guests, to join the dancing, chancing throng. I believe the ones in the gold masks are party crashers, but all are welcome to the Mad God's Masque and Bellicose Ball."

"I'm looking for Hlireni Indavel," Llovesi tried again.

"And I am she. But you have not answered my question. Any of them. You're not a party crasher as well are you? Or are you just here to be a Game Piece? Then step right in, pick a partner, and start swinging. I'm sure you'll find someone to accommodate you."

"Oh no," Llovesi said, getting impatient with Hlireni's riddles. "I'm definitely a game player."

"Well, well, well. Do you have a game you want to play? Tell me..."

Llovesi drew her spear with a flourish and aimed it at Hlireni's chin.

"Here's the 'game'," she said. "It's called 'you clear out of here, take your followers with you and I let you keep your lives'. The Ahemmusa tribe need shelter and they have just as much right to this place as you. I won't have them harmed."

Hlireni looked down at the spear then up to Llovesi's face. Then she glanced sideways at Julan, who'd fitted an arrow to his bow. All around them, the Mad God's ball continued.

"Ah. I see," she said slowly. "You propose that I permit these poor Ahemmusa tribesmen to come take shelter here on the island, and in return, you won't kill me. So the game is 'Challenge and Bluff.' And, given the apparent high level of your skills, I hesitate to call your bluff. So. You win. I concede. I can't speak for the Ordinators, of course, but I promise you may bring the Ahemmusa here, and my followers will not harm them. I swear on the Mad God."

Llovesi lowered her weapon, and felt Julan do the same beside her. It was better than nothing. Now they just had to convince the Ordinators to leave.

Hlireni summoned a scamp and gave it the message to carry to the cultists in other areas of the shrine. Then she called a halt to the dance and introduced Llovesi and Julan as the guests of honour. They politely refused any requests to dance.

They decided to explore the shrine completely before leaving. Any time they came across cultists, the exchange was roughly the same.

"Everything is perfectly all right," they would say. "We heard the word. Hlireni Indavel says lay off you and the savages. We won't touch them, or you, as long as you leave us alone."

Then as soon as they turned their backs to leave, they would hear them whisper: "spoil sports," just loud enough to be heard.

Incredibly, the cultists seemed to be succeeding in pushing the Ordinators back. Whatever they lacked in combative skills they made up in numbers. Whenever a worshipper fell in combat, another one would run forward to take their place, a smile on their face. Soon, the Ordinators were either all dead or retreating.

Llovesi and Julan wandered around the now empty entrance hall, the only sounds the distance trickling of water and the on going 'festivities' in the antechamber.

Julan reached out and brushed the reddish stone with his fingertips.

"Imagining it as home?" Llovesi asked, watching him with a half-smile.

Julan let his fingers drop. "I don't think we've ever really had a home, have we, Llovesi? For years I thought of home as that yurt on the sand... Can you ever really imagining us settling down?"

Llovesi didn't think it was a question to be answered. Her thoughts turned to their life, constantly on the move. _Would it happen one day? It'll have to, won't it? Do I want it to?_

Julan cast one last look around the hall, then left for the exit.

Llovesi took her turn looking around. Yes, she could imagine the camp here. And maybe it would be good enough. It might even be better.

* * *

**A/N: I always thought there should have been something more to the Mad God's Masque and Bellicose Ball! Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, apologies for the later update today, hayfever has reared its ugly head!**


	41. The Vampire and The Bride

_**Chapter 40: The Vampire and The Bride**_

"Llovesi... uh... in front of the peoples of the Ahemmusa tribe, I name you Ahemmusa Nerevarine... _Sinnammu, what comes next?_... Ah and War Leader of the Ahemmusa, and Protector of the People. I also give you the Madstone of the Ahemmusa, which shall be a sign to all that you are the Nerevarine and that the Ahemmusa will follow you, in all things, even unto death, until the Enemy is defeated, or until you are dead."

The few assembled tribe members cheered and Sinnammu handed Julan the Madstone: a blue stone emblazoned with a golden eye encircled by a red stone in the shape of a crescent moon.

Llovesi smiled and bowed her head; Julan placed the pendant around her neck and fastened it. Touching it, she could feel the buzz of the voices of the ancestors within it: the potential of the power it contained.

"Thank you," she whispered, then turned and raised her voice: "thank you all!"

They had to leave for the Zainab camp further south, but she and Julan walked about the camp, talking to the tribe first. Everyone was busy, packing for the imminent move to Ald Daedroth. Sinnammu had visited the ruin with Llovesi and Julan, and declared that they would start preparations to move there instantly. All around them, people were loading pack guars, rolling rugs, storing things in crates and urns.

Shani came up to them; a pack strapped to her back, and hugged them both.

"Hi, Shani," Julan said. "Packed already?"

Shani looked uncomfortable for the briefest of moments, then shouldered her pack defiantly.

"Actually, I'm not going to Ald Daedroth," she said. "I've decided to head south, and make a life outside of the camp in one of the cities. There's nothing here for me anymore, especially not if we're moving to a Daedric ruin. So I just wanted to say goodbye properly and, Llovesi, good luck."

Julan gaped at her. "You're leaving? Just like that? For good?"

Shani sighed. "You know it's not 'just like that', Julan. I know you think I just wanted to settle down, but I never really did. Maybe if things had turned out differently... but no, I've made up my mind. We'll keep in touch, okay? Llovesi's got the ring..."

But as they all looked at each other, Llovesi realised how unlikely that was. They hadn't really used the ring that much, perhaps already knowing that, since Ald'ruhn, Shani's place was not with them. They would have no other way of knowing where she was, and she no way of knowing where they were. This was a goodbye, of a symbolic sort.

She hugged them again, and then strode off back into the camp, presumably to say more farewells.

It was true that not everyone seemed delighted with the news of the move. The oldest and most traditional seemed the hardest to convince, but some of the few young Ashlanders, like Shani, did not seem ecstatic to be moving even further away from civilisation.

Llovesi noticed Julan watching the activity anxiously, and reached down to squeeze his hand.

"Hey, it's okay," she said. "I'll manage on my own for a bit. You stay and help them move. I mean it," she added, as Julan started to protest.

"Okay," he said finally. "Okay. But you take care of yourself, promise? Oh, what am I talking about, you'll be fine."

They kissed, and then he was gone, disappearing into the midst of the camp.

Llovesi watched his retreating back, then shouldered her pack and turned south.

* * *

The walk to Zainab Camp shouldn't have taken more than half a day. In theory. But the roads and hills seemed to be occupied by a never-ending stream of Blighted creatures and Daedra, such that Llovesi didn't reach the camp until dusk.

Ashlanders were disappearing into yurts around her, stamping out fires and rolling up rugs. No one was paying Llovesi any attention. Suddenly she caught the eye of a woman still sitting by one of the dying fires.

"Come closer," the Ashlander called, standing up. "Let me see you."

She examined Llovesi in the light of the embers, studying her face, her robe, and the tokens she wore.

"Yes," she said finally, "I think it is you. The one they talk about. The outlander who claims she fulfils the Nerevarine Prophecies. You should talk to Ashkhan Kaushad."

"Don't I need to speak to his gulakhans first?" Llovesi asked.

The woman laughed. "Our great chief does not stand on ceremony. He is the mightiest champion and greatest Ashkhan of all the Ashlander tribes. He is a very curious man, always speaking with traders and travellers about the news of the world. You may enter his yurt, if you are clean and courteous."

Llovesi looked down at her mud-encrusted boots, her water-stained robe (how stupid of her to wear it for travelling in) and swept her braids behind her ears anxiously. Still, she looked no dirtier than the other Ashlanders.

Kaushad didn't seem to mind. A sinewy and slim man, with a lined face and silver hair smoothed back from his face with a golden headband, he looked every inch the part of a leader.

"So. You are Llovesi," he said, looking her up and down, before she could even open her mouth. "The outlander who claims to fulfil the Nerevarine prophecies. You are welcome to our hospitality, outlander. But you must tell us... how can an outlander be the Nerevarine?"

Llovesi started to explain her story, and show him her proofs, but before she could finish, Kaushad let out a strange hooting chuckle:

"Ho, ho! Excuse me. Do not think me rude. But seriously. Do you believe this story yourself? I mean no offense, but you must admit, you are an outlander, and completely ignorant of our ways. How could you ever be our war leader? What sensible Ashkhan would ever choose you to lead the tribes? Ho, ho."

Llovesi felt embarrassment and anger flush her cheeks.

"I'm not ignorant of your ways," she said. "I've spent a great deal of time learning to be less ignorant. I know for example, that I could challenge you for the title, but I don't want to do that. Set me a task. Let me prove my worth to you."

Kaushad stared at her incredulously, then sighed.

"Very well," he said, scratching his chin. "A vampire named Calvario has taken refuge in nearby Nerano Ancestral Tomb. If you are as worthy as you say you are, it should be a small matter for you to dispose of this vampire. There. You have your task. Now perhaps you would leave me in peace for a bit?"

"Where is Nerano Ancestral Tomb?"

"Must I tell you everything? Nerano Ancestral Tomb is to the north. But you are a stranger, and may get lost. Listen. Go west from our camp until you reach the mountains, then turn north and follow the mountains, keeping them on your left. When you pass the ruins of Nchuleft, keep your eyes to the east, looking for an entrance flanked by two trees on the western slope of a hill in the centre of the Grazelands. That will be Nerano Ancestral Tomb."

Llovesi left the yurt and pitched the tent on the outskirts of the camp. It felt strange to be alone. She missed Julan's running commentary. Surely he would have had some choice words about the pompous Ashkhan.

At dawn, the sound of gentle rain roused her. She left the tent and headed west for the mountains as Kaushad had advised.

Within minutes she was soaked through. The rain was quickly turning from a drizzle to a storm. She was sure she was getting lost, as she slipped down grassy hills and tripped over roots. At least if she couldn't find the tomb in this downpour, it would be more difficult for any creatures to find her.

After what felt like hours of aimless stumbling, and passing the Dwemer Ruin for what was probably the third time, she saw the two trees Kaushad had mentioned.

The tomb was dry at least, if chillingly cold. She lit a fire, and tried to warm herself up. That was when she heard the screams.

Extinguishing the fire, she drew her spear and crept down the stairs, feeling more vulnerable without Julan to watch her back.

The first door revealed a bonewalker, a hulking lump of animated flesh and bone that guarded tombs, standing over a dead man. She jumped back, keeping out of range of its energy-sapping spells and fought it with fire until it was nothing more than a charred hulk on the ground. She examined the Breton, who it seemed had died recently: blood was still seeping from the tiny wounds on his neck. The bonewalker must have finished him off as he tried to escape. And yet she had heard more than one voice screaming…

The next room yielded a few more dead grave robbers, and a few skeletons.

She had just taken care of them, when the other door in the room burst open and Calvario was standing there, holding the limp body of a young woman in his arms.

He roared and threw the body at Llovesi. She ducked as the unfortunate young woman sailed overhead with impressive force, cracking against the wall behind. Calvario was upon her then, pushing her back against the wall, his cold breath on her neck.

"Well," he whispered into her ear. "Look who's stumbled into my lair now."

Llovesi kicked him hard in the groin, and he fell off her, his eyes wide in pain and surprise. She speared him through the heart in one swift movement. He wasn't even wearing any armour. All vampires were was flesh and bone in the end. And now, ash.

She scooped the ash into an empty vial and returned to the Zainab Camp.

* * *

Rain was still falling in great sheets outside, and Llovesi was drenched to the skin all over again.

Kaushad was waiting for her, with an older Dunmer woman, her dark hair held back from her face by an ornate clasp.

"I've killed Calvario," Llovesi said, holding the vial of ashes up.

"Sonummu, if you please," Kaushad said.

The woman took the vial and examined it by the light of the firepit.

"Yes," she said, after scrutinising the contents for several minutes. "This is vampire ash."

"Good. Forgive me my suspicion, but I thought it prudent to have my wise woman check. So you killed the vampire Calvario? Well. I will be happy to acknowledge you as Zainab Nerevarine. But... it is customary for one seeking an honor from the Ashkhan to offer the Ashkhan a generous gift as a mark of respect. Because you are an outlander, and do not know our customs, I will do you the great favour of naming the gift I wish to receive - a high-born Telvanni bride - a pretty one, plump, with big hips to bring me many sons."

Llovesi noticed that Sonummu was carefully avoiding her gaze. Kaushad continued:

"Where will you find a high-born Telvanni bride? That is simple. You should visit high-born Telvanni lords and inform them that Ashkhan Kaushad of the Lordly Zainab would do them the honor of making their daughter his bride. Surely many Telvanni lords would be honoured to receive such an offer. Consider carefully the many daughters offered and choose for me the finest. Take counsel with Sonummu Zabamat. She knows my mind well in such matters."

Llovesi stared at him hopelessly. In a way, he was right, there was nothing wrong with wedding an Ashkhan. But there was no way the Telvanni would see it that way. For an intelligent man, this showed a remarkable lack of foresight. _No_, she realised, _he knows this will be impossible_. _Yet another test_.

The wise woman gestured that Llovesi should follow her from the tent. When they were back in her yurt, she collapsed into surprisingly girlish giggles.

"Kaushad wants a Telvanni bride, eh?" she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "No high-born Telvanni would wed an Ashlander. But I have a plan. Go to my friend, Savile Imayn, slavemistress of the Festival Slave Market in Tel Aruhn, and tell her you need a pretty Dunmer slave to pose as a Telvanni lady. Then Savile Imayn will tell you what clothes to buy, and will dress her like a high-born Telvanni. Then escort the pretty slave to Zainab camp and present her to Ashkhan Kaushad as a high-born Telvanni bride. He won't know the difference."

"Slavemistress?" Llovesi said in disbelief.

"Yes, slavemistress," Sonummu replied. "Do you have any bright ideas? No? Then remember who is the wise-woman. Besides, if Savile has a girl, then it will doubtless be a better life for her."

Mollified, Llovesi left to start the hike to Tel Aruhn. She arrived on the island by mid afternoon, and luckily the storm clouds had abated somewhat, although the sky was still an ominous grey.

She walked round to the slave market, where Savile Imayn was busy with a couple of customers. They left, and she turned to Llovesi.

"You need a slave to pose as a high-born Telvanni lady?" she asked, after Llovesi had explained the situation. "Sweet Alma, that Sonummu Zabamat and her cunning plans... I do have the slave you want, Falura Llervu, a pretty Dunmer girl. But first you must get some rich clothes: a fine shirt, an beautiful skirt, and tailored shoes, to dress her as a noble. Go get these exquisite clothes and bring them to me, and then we will discuss a price for her."

"Where can I buy clothes like that?" Llovesi asked, having never worn such things.

"Tel Mora, Elegnan the Clothier," the slavemistress answered instantly. "She has some _very_ nice things. See these clothes I'm wearing? My brocade shirt? My skirt and shoes?" The slavemistress twirled so that her golden skirt fanned out and Llovesi could see her pale pink silken slippers. "I bought them at her shop. Maybe you should try her."

It was easily a few hours on the boat to Tel Mora, so even though Llovesi was already aching from the day's exertions, she left immediately. Elegnan did indeed have some beautiful clothes very much like those that Savile wore, so Llovesi bought them and some jewellery too for good measure. Then she rented a room at The Covenant, where the bed felt cold and lonely, and she slept with her dagger under her pillow and her cuirass on.

The next day, she returned to Savile Imayn.

"Good. These clothes are perfect," she said. "Hold onto them. You'll give them to her when you've bought her. But I need a little more time to coach Falura Llervu to play the part of a high-born Telvanni lady." She thought for a moment, tapping her chin with her finger, before exclaiming suddenly: "I know just the thing we need! Go get a bottle of Telvanni Bug musk perfume! Try Bildren Areleth the Apothecary here in Tel Aruhn. That will make Falura Llervu completely irresistible! Go! Hurry!"

She practically pushed Llovesi away.

Llovesi was just handing some gold over to Bildren Areleth when Julan reappeared beside her.

"What are you buying perfume for?" he asked with a smirk. "You're irresistible enough already!" He swept her into his arms.

"Julan!" Llovesi exclaimed, aware of the apothecary watching them. She explained the plan quickly. Julan's expression went from flirtatious to disgust in a millisecond.

"And you're going along with this?" he asked. "I don't think we should be supporting the slave trade!"

"I know, I'm not sure about it either but... Falura is happier about this than being a slave," Llovesi said, wincing internally at the lie. She steered the conversation onto the Ahemmusa's move as they returned to the slave market, and Julan told her that it was a success.

"Everything and everyone has moved over there. Now Sinnammu and Minabibi are just working on making it habitable. The flooding on the lower levels is from a fresh water spring under the island, so we've got water. And most of the cultists have left actually. I think they got bored. But Sinnammu said I could return to you for now."

"There you are," Savile said as they approached. "You have the Telvanni Bug Musk? Excellent. No, don't give it to me. You'll give it to her when you have bought her. Now. Let me tell you my price. For this superb specimen, skilfully coached to play her part in your little scheme, I am pleased to accept from you the modest sum of one thousand, two hundred septims. And I only offer you this special price out of my friendship for Sonummu Zabamat."

In an instant, she had transformed into a convincing portrayal of a greasy salesperson. Llovesi counted out the coins with a grimace.

"Very good. Thank you for your custom, and come back soon. Now, I've brought Falura out. Here's the key to her cage, on the right there. I've removed her slave bracers. When you're ready, you should speak to her, give her the presents - the exquisite clothes and Telvanni Bug Musk - and explain to her that she is to follow you back to Zainab camp to meet her future husband, Ashkhan Kaushad."

Llovesi unlocked the bars of the cage and with a mechanical click they swung open.

Falura looked older than Llovesi had expected, which relieved her a bit. At least she wasn't sending a teenager into an arranged marriage with an older man.

She was slim, with elegant features and had a small bob of wavy dark hair falling about her ears and into her eyes, which were currently staring at the ground.

"Falura?" Llovesi asked softly.

The woman looked up suddenly, speaking with graceful authority:

"Yes, sera. Falura Llervu of Velothis Haven, daughter of Andrano Llervu, lord of Tel Llervu, pleased to make your acquaintance." She smiled slightly at Llovesi and Julan's stunned expressions.

"See?" she said, almost playfully. "Savile Imayn has taught me well. I shall _be_ a high-born Telvanni lady, and no one will know the difference. Just like a lady. I admit, I am a little anxious about marrying an Ashlander, even an Ashlander chief, but anything is better than being a slave, and I am very tough and smart, and determined to make the best of my chances. But Savile Imayn said you wanted to give me something. Some presents..."

Llovesi passed her the perfume, and retrieved the shoes, shirt and skirt from her pack. Falura's eyes widened as she sniffed the perfume and felt the silken fabric of the clothes.

"Oh, sera!" she exclaimed. "These clothes! They are divine! Such a perfume! Only the very rich can afford this! I shall do everything I can to please you and my new master... that is, my gracious lord and husband-to-be..."

She trailed off as she began pulling at the rags she was wearing, throwing them into a pile at her feet. Julan averted his eyes as Llovesi helped Falura with all the clasps and ties the rich clothes seemed to have. Finally, Falura was standing ready, adjusting the jewelled pendant around her neck while Llovesi puzzled over the perfume.

"Here," Falura said, taking it from her hands and dabbing it behind each ear. "I've been a household slave to many ladies before. I have to say I never thought that one day I'd be dressing just like them! Come! I am so excited, I cannot wait! Let us travel together to Zainab camp and meet this Zainab lord."

She stepped down from the cage, lifting her skirts about her ankles and strode off excitedly.

They took a boat to Vos; they would walk from there. Falura chatted the whole way, whether through nervousness or excitement, Llovesi couldn't tell. At first they talked about Ashlanders, a culture that Falura had only ever come into contact with through the less-than-complimentary stories from former owners. Julan was quick to defend the tribes and reassure Falura, and by the time they docked at Vos, she was looking happier about her future prospects.

As they took to the road, talk turned to her life. Llovesi and Julan learned how she'd been a slave since she was ten years old and bandits had raided her family of travelling merchants near Tear. Ever since then she'd been sold and bought, passed between families of nobles. It never seemed to last long; other Dunmer seemed uncomfortable having a Dunmer slave, especially as she got older.

"But now, finally, I am free," Falura said, as they crested the final hill. Then she fell silent, her mouth hanging open in surprise.

Zainab Camp sprawled beneath them, positively bursting with life. Ashlanders were hard at work, crafting ornaments, mixing potions, tanning hides, stitching clothes. Others had set up collapsible stalls and were trading with visitors: passing adventurers, merchants from Vos and Tel Vos, hunters, and wizards. The acrid smell of tanning solution mixed with the far more pleasant smells of burning wood and cooking meat. Llovesi had never seen an Ashlander camp so full, or so busy.

As they passed through the camp, people stopped conversations and activities to turn and stare, though for once Llovesi was not the centre of attention. It was Falura; her head bowed modestly, her golden garments glinting in the sun that was now breaking between the clouds. Llovesi didn't pause, and led her directly to Kaushad's yurt in the centre of the camp. The Ashkhan was standing outside, talking with a couple of visitors in Bonemold armour.

"Is that him?" Falura whispered suddenly, clutching Llovesi's arm. "He is very distinguished-looking, isn't he? A bit severe, perhaps, but the lines on his face, there, show that he likes to smile. Oh, sera. I think I will be very happy."

Kashaud noticed them waiting. He spoke a few words to the Dunmer in armour, who bowed their heads respectfully and left.

"This is my new bride?" he asked, walking over.

"Falura Llervu of Velothis Haven, daughter of Andrano Llervu, lord of Tel Llervu," Falura said, word-perfect as before, and curtsied. Kaushad smiled, the small lines by his eyes creasing.

"I am very pleased with your gift, Llovesi... though she is not so generous in the hips as I would like," he added, glancing at Falura's waist as she blushed. "I promise to make her a happy bride, and to do her honor as a high-born Telvanni lady. And, as I have said, I will now name you Zainab Nerevarine. Please come with me, I shall proclaim this to the tribe."

They followed him to the large tree that grew in the centre of the camp. Several branches hung low, and a wooden platform had been constructed upon them, with a rope ladder hanging down to the ground. Kashaud helped Falura up, then motioned for Llovesi to follow him.

On the platform he withdrew a small horn fashioned into an amulet from his short, and blew into it. A surprisingly loud note echoed around the camp, and the Ashlanders stopped what they were doing to assemble around the large tree. Soon, hundreds of faces were gazing up at them.

"People of the Zainab," Kaushad said, "I stand before you today to name Llovesi Zainab Nerevarine, War Leader of the Zainab, and Protector of the People. I also give her the Zainab Thong, an enchanted heirloom of the tribe, which shall be a sign to all Dunmer that the Zainab have named her Nerevarine."

He took the horn-amulet and placed it around Llovesi's neck. The camp started to cheer, but Kaushad held up a hand.

"I am also pleased to introduce you Falura Llervu, a Telvanni lady who, tomorrow, will become my bride."

At this, the tribe could no longer contain themselves. Kaushad had to shout to be heard over the yells below.

"The wedding will be held tomorrow morning, after I have spoken with Sonummu Zabamat to make the necessary arrangements!"

Falura waved shyly at the crowds below and Kaushad turned to Llovesi. "I'll see you at the wedding of course," he said. "Such an important guest, people will talk of this union for centuries..."

"I'm sorry, but I should really leave for the Erabenimsun Camp," Llovesi said, but Kaushad leant in suddenly to whisper into her ear while the crowds continued to cheer for Falura.

"Do not think me such a fool," he said, and Llovesi's heart jumped in her chest, "of course I realize you have tricked me. I do not mind. In fact, I think you are very clever to hoodwink the chief of the Zainab, and I think that maybe a clever Nerevarine is not such a bad thing at all. Besides, now I am _much_ happier with this fine young woman than I would have been with a stuck-up Telvanni lady."

He leant back, looking satisfied with himself. "So, I'll see you tomorrow? You and Han-Julan? Yes, I know who he is: I know a great deal more than you probably think."

He smiled, and turned back to the crowds, throwing up is arms in celebration. Llovesi re-joined Julan on the ground.

"Three down, one to go!" Julan said with a grin. "But what was he whispering to you about up there?"

"He knows. That she's not a real Telvanni I mean. And he knows who you are. We're going to his wedding, and then we're going to leave before he can use his position to coerce any more favours from us. I think I'm starting to realise what Nibani said when she described the Zainab as a crafty lot."

They both watched the Ashkhan and his new bride waving from the platform. He would be an interesting ally, that was certain. Even though his intelligence intimidated Llovesi, she was glad for it.

She wasn't so sure that the final Ashlander camp would be so prepared to entertain her story.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to Ozymandeos for your review, fav and follow! Random bit of trivia for people reading along - I occasionally imagine real world people as characters for inspiration with description and with Falura it was easy to see her 'as played by' the beautiful and talented French actress Clotilde Hesme. Just a visual reference if anyone was interested!**


	42. Strength, Courage, and Wisdom

_**Chapter 41: Strength, Courage, and Wisdom**_

The room was dark, but she could feel people moving in the shadows beside her. At least, she hoped they were people.

"You make a good pawn, don't you? You play the part well, but what have you achieved? All words, and words change nothing. Words cannot do harm. Unlike you."

Now she saw them. The faces of the dead. Ren and Clause, arm in arm, watching her with silent reproach. Foryn Gilnith. Two mabrigash women, their eyes blank. Bolvyn Venim, Orvas Dren and Master Gothren. Snowy, from the bridge. Bandits, smugglers, dreamers, all staring silently at her.

She was in the halls of the dead.

The speaker stepped forward into the light, and Llovesi was staring at their face. It was a cruel, proud face, smirking at her while all the other faces remained sad or blank. It was her own face.

"Quite the killer," she heard herself say. "But you knew that, didn't you. You've always been a killer. But how sure are you of yourself? You once swore magicka was bad. Now you fight with fire. Are you so sure that you're doing the right thing? Are you so sure you're a good person?"

"Don't listen to him."

A younger voice. A younger her, stepping from the shadows. Herself at thirteen years old, gangly and awkward. Just into her growth spurt, the tunic she wore several inches above her ankles.

"He lies, you know that. He's just using your insecurities against you. You don't need to hide from yourself."

The teenage her reached out and took her hand. The other Llovesi was gone, replaced by a figure in a golden mask.

"We are so close to each other, Nerevar," he said. "When will you reveal yourself? When will you cast off this form you have taken and seek me out? When will your words turn to action...?"

But the voice was fading, and her younger self's hand was warm in hers. She was being led away, away from the dead and into the light.

* * *

Llovesi's eyes snapped open, and she took a moment to orient herself. In the tent, Julan breathing next to her, the cold light of dawn seeping through the fabric. All safe.

Another nightmare. That wasn't really surprising now. What was surprising was the strange turn her dream had taken. She racked her brains, but she couldn't remember another one like it. All of the first half of the dream was fading. Like the others she'd had, it was now nothing more than unpleasant impressions. Faces. Figures. Nothing more.

But then she'd dreamt of her teenage self, and that she remembered. She remembered being told to ignore him. Dagoth Ur. He knew more about her than she was comfortable with, knew enough to engage in psychological warfare. But it seemed her subconscious was fighting back.

She rolled over, but it was no good, she was wide-awake. Perhaps that was for the best.

* * *

By mid-afternoon, Llovesi was sorely missing the sleep she'd been robbed of. Preparations for the wedding had begun a few hours after dawn, and rather than lay awake next to the sleeping Julan, she'd joined in with the decorating and preparation of the wedding feast.

The wedding itself had lasted for no more than an hour, but much of the ceremony and songs were in the old tongue, meaning Llovesi had to concentrate twice as hard as normal to have even the vaguest idea of what was being said, given the meagre vocabulary she'd managed to pick up while staying with the Ashlander camps. Still, it was a beautiful ceremony, despite her weariness.

Sonummu conducted it from the platform on the tree, decorated with freshly picked Grazelands flowers. Falura looked stunning, still in her golden clothes but wearing a headdress woven with Ashlander beads. Kaushad was proud next to her, and when the singing started, he led it with gusto, his rich voice carrying around the camp.

Llovesi ended up being glad she attended. It was good to know that, even in troubled times, moments of pure happiness could exist. The look on Falura's face as she said her vows was enough. After the feast, she wished Kaushad all the best, and retreated with Julan to pack up the tent and set off for the long journey south to the Erabenimsun.

They were just checking the map, when Falura came up to them, still flushed.

"Kaushad said you were leaving," she said. "I just wanted to thank you, sera. Thank you for being my matchmaker and benefactor, and I hope you will return to visit when I have brought many fine sons and daughters to Ashkhan Kaushad."

"We will," Llovesi said.

"Good luck on your travels, and with the prophecies. I'm glad it's someone like you who'll be keeping us safe." She smiled, and then turned back to be absorbed by the crowd of excited revellers and well-wishers.

Llovesi and Julan turned away from the merriment, and set their sights on Molag Amur.

* * *

After a day's trek deep into the scorched, steam-pit filled region, Llovesi and Julan found the Erabenimsun Camp. It was clutching the ground in a large, dusty valley below them and, as they peered down at it, they could make out a few Ashlanders strolling or working between the yurts. Most seemed to be tending to weapons or armour.

"I've heard they can be pretty violent," Julan said next to her. "Try not to provoke them."

_Easier said than done_, Llovesi thought, knowing her track record for provocation. Still, she would have to face them. They were bound to know she was coming.

They were met with suspicious glares as they approached the camp, even open hostility. It seemed the Erabenimsun took their character from the land they lived in. A small group started to form, wielding weapons aggressively, and suddenly Llovesi and Julan found themselves enclosed in a circle.

"Outlanders," someone hissed.

A woman with long white plaits stepped forward, scowling.

"You have no business here," she said. "We do not deal with outlanders. We shall give you one chance to leave, before we run you through!"

There was a nasty laugh at this. Llovesi tried to speak, her mouth dry.

"We do have business here," she managed. "My name is Llovesi, I wish to be name Nerev-"

"Fool! Liar!" The woman snapped suddenly. "Imperial scum!"

The grumbling and hissing increased. Weapons were being brandished threateningly. Suddenly, a young man broke free of the crowd:

"Outlander," he said shortly, "you will find no welcome here. Speak to Manirai, our wise woman."

The woman glared at him. "You are weak and peace-loving, Assemmus! I was a fool to take you as a husband. I say we should teach these outlanders what it means to trespass in our camp, Erabenimsun!"

She ended her speech with a cry, and charged at them. Llovesi and Julan drew their weapons, ready to fight rather than die, but Llovesi's heart was sinking. All was lost. She could not slaughter the whole camp.

But before the enraged woman could strike, a new voice rang out from behind them.

"Zebba, stop!"

The crowd parted. A short, severe-looking Dunmer woman walked up to them from outside the camp, her arms filled with alchemical ingredients. She strode straight up to Zebba, glaring at her, who faltered, her sword still raised.

"Return to your business," she said. "These outlanders will leave the camp with me. Alive."

"This is my business!" Zebba argued, seeming unwilling to lower her weapon. "They come here, spreading lies and foolish superstition..."

"Are you Ashkhan? Are you gulakhan? No? Then it is not your business. Lower your weapon, and leave them. All of you," she added, glaring at the crowd.

There was general dissent, but eventually the crowd dispersed. The woman gave a satisfied smile.

"It is good to know, even if I may be powerless in the eyes of our Ashkhan, that the tribe still respects their wise woman," she said. "Come, we must talk. Away from here."

She led them out of the camp. None of them saw Zebba walking over to the Ashkhan's yurt.

* * *

When they were all seated, more or less comfortably, a little while outside the camp, Manirai took Llovesi's hand abruptly, and studied the Moon-and-Star.

"You wish to be named Erabenimsun Nerevarine?" she asked, and Llovesi nodded. "Never." She let her hand drop.

"Not while Ashkhan Ulath-Pal and his war-loving Erabenimsun live. They all hate Outlanders, and are proud and haughty, and will never suffer an Outlander to rule them. If you would be Nerevarine of the Erabenimsun, you must kill Ulath-Pal and his supporters, the gulakhans Ahaz, Ranabi, and Ashu-Ahhe. Then you must help me make peace-loving Erabenimsun gulakhan Han-Ammu our Ashkhan. Ashkhan Han-Ammu could then name you Nerevarine Erabenimsun.

"But before anything else can be done, you must first eliminate Ulath-Pal and his supporters. Then you should come speak with me, and we will discuss further how you might be named Erabenimsun Nerevarine."

"I was hoping we'd be able to do this without any fighting," Julan said glumly.

Manirai shot him a sharp look. "Impossible," she said. "If you would fight Ashkhan Ulath-Pal and his supporters, know your enemy, and come prepared. They are the strongest of the fighting Erabenimsun. I think you will defeat Ranabi and Ashu-Ahhe in single combat. But if you stand alone against Ulath-Pal and his bodyguard, Ahaz, you may not prevail. If you have hidden skills and resources, or you are a mighty sorcerer or enchanter, perhaps you may defeat them."

She stood up, indicating the discussion over. Llovesi looked at Julan.

"Ready?" she asked.

"As I'll ever be."

Llovesi checked her scrolls and amulets, then drew her spear and walked back to the camp. As they approached however, she could tell something was not right. There was a tense atmosphere, and the same crowd from earlier was still milling about. Two Ashlander men she didn't recognise from earlier were standing in the centre of the camp. One was dark-haired, robed and tattooed, and the other white-haired, in a full suit of bonemold armour.

"So," the robed one said, stepping forward. "You are the outlanders causing all this trouble we've heard about. Ulath-Pal has sent us to deal with you."

"Who are you?" Llovesi asked.

"I am Ranabi, and this is Ashu-Ahhe. We are gulakhans of this tribe."

Llovesi breathed in deeply. "I challenge you both to an honour-duel. To the death."

The men exchanged a briefly surprised glance, then laughed roughly.

"We accept," Ashu-Ahhe said.

A tight arena of bodies was quickly formed by the watching Ashlanders.

"As the challenger, yours is the first blow!" Ranabi called, drawing his blade.

Llovesi raised her spear, and charged him. But as she hit him, she was thrown backwards, crashing painfully into the ground. The crowd jeered. Both men were surrounded by shimmering auras. They'd thrown up powerful physical shield spells.

Llovesi started to pick herself up, but Ranabi was bearing down upon her, spells in his hands. He threw fireballs, and Llovesi had to roll from side to side, dodging, before she had time to stand again.

"That's it, down in the dirt, where you belong, outlander!" Ranabi yelled.

Julan was faring better than her, sparring with Ashu-Ahhe. He swung furiously with Han-Sashael's sword, and succeeded in renting a hole in the magical shield. Ashu-Ahhe dropped back, stunned, as his shield dissolved around him. Julan swung the powerful sword in a great arc and beheaded him.

Ranabi yelled in frustration, and swiped at Llovesi with his blade. It stung, worse than normal, but there was no time to check the wound. She countered, and like Julan, managed to beat his shield down and finish him.

She dropped to all fours, shaking and sweating. Julan came to her side and gently lifted her cuirass to look at the wound. It was bleeding freely, and the area around it had swollen and darkened. Julan swore.

"Poisoned blade," he said. "Hang on, I'll cure it."

He placed his hand on the wound and Llovesi gritted her teeth, but the pain and the swelling were lessening.

"What have you done?" a cold voice rang out from the edge of the arena. A powerful looking Ashlander dressed in bonemold and chitin armour pushed his way through the crowd, flanked by a shorter, brutish looking Dunmer.

"You have murdered my gulakhans!" he roared, his hand flying to the glass axe on his hip.

"It was a fair challenge," Llovesi said, struggling to her feet. "They accepted, and I might add that their techniques were not the most honourable." She adjusted her cuirass.

Ulath-Pal spat at her feet. "I despise you," he said. "And now I shall crush you like the insect you are, outlander."

He drew his axe and swung at her face, but Julan jumped in and caught the blow on his shield.

"Fine," Ulath-Pal said, and laughed. "First you, traitorous Ashlander, then the outlander scum."

They began to spar, and Llovesi barely had time to wield her spear again before Ahaz was upon her. He too fought with an axe, and though he had more endurance than either Ranabi or Ashu-Ahhe, it wasn't long before Llovesi gained the upper hand and he joined the others in the dust.

Julan was still fighting fiercely with Ulath-Pal. The taller man had clearly injured him, for blood was tracking down his face and dotting the dust around their feet. But Ulath-Pal was limping too. Llovesi didn't waste a moment, but summoned a Golden Saint and joined in, bringing her spear down on Ulath-Pal's head with a crack.

The Golden Saint distracted him from Julan, as she'd hoped it would. With three of them now attacking, Ulath-Pal's strength was faltering. He didn't seem to know, or care, that Ahaz had joined his other gulakhans on the ground. He cut the Golden Saint down with a few well-placed blows from his axe, then rounded back on Llovesi.

She didn't want to risk any fireballs. That would be foolish with so many people around. Instead she dodged his axe and grabbed his throat. His eyes widened, and he kicked her back, but the spell's damage had been done. His skin was blistering and cracking before their eyes.

Julan dealt the final blow, driving his sword right into Ulath-Pal's unprotected neck. He seemed smaller in death, the confused look still on his face.

"Quick," Llovesi murmured. "While everyone's still in shock." She leant down to close his eyes, showing respect to the dead, then turned on her heel to find Manirai.

The wise woman had seen everything as she'd followed them back to the camp. She pulled them into her yurt.

"Now, with Ulath-Pal and his supporters out of the way, it is a simple matter to be named Nerevarine of the Erabenimsun," she said. "All you need to do is persuade gulakhan Han-Ammu to become the Ashkhan of the Erabenimsun. Seek him out in his gulakyurt. Be prepared, however. Han-Ammu is not the material one would choose when looking to make an Ashkhan. He may be difficult to persuade."

"Do you have any counsel?" Llovesi asked, as Julan tended to the wound on his head.

"Han-Ammu is the son of our former chief, Airan-Ammu, but he is nothing like his father. His birth gives him a strong claim to lead the tribe, but of the many virtues required by an Ashkhan, he lacks only three things: strength, courage, and wisdom.

"If you hope to persuade Han-Ammu to become Ashkhan, you must find some way to give him strength, willpower, and intelligence. Han-Ammu is unpopular with the tribe, and he knows it. But if he bore tokens recognised by all the tribe as conferring strength, willpower, and intelligence, it would give him the confidence to accept the responsibilities of tribe leadership."

"Tokens...?"

"By tokens, I mean well-known tribal heirlooms, objects of power handed down through the generations by gulakhans and Ashkhans. Such tokens are marks of power and distinction, and might give Han-Ammu the abilities and confidence he needs."

"Things the dead men owned, I'll bet," Julan said with a distasteful expression as they left the tent again.

The Erabenimsun looked at Llovesi with hurt in their eyes as she stood outside. She'd been expecting them to attack, or chase her out. But this was somehow worse. She tried to see it from their perspective: a stranger arrives and kills all the leaders for her own gains...

"The camp will be better off without those butchers," Julan said, as if he'd read her emotions.

But that did not reduce the pain Llovesi saw around her as the Ashlanders sat with their dead, and others prepared a funeral pyre.

"Nerevarine!" It was Assemmus. He was holding a bundle of cloth, an amulet and the glass axe that Ulath-Pal had wielded. He passed her the objects.

"I apologise, but I listened in on your conversation with Manirai," he said. "You cannot be expected to know, but these objects are renowned and revered in our camp. The Robe of Erur-Dan the Wise, Sanit-Kil's Heart of Fire and the War Axe of Airan-Ammu, Han-Ammu's father. They may be what you-what he needs."

"Thank you," Llovesi said, wondering how it must have been to be the one to take the objects from the bodies.

Assemmus smiled. "I am among those who wish to see the Erabenimsun become peace-loving, as I have heard we once were. Good luck."

* * *

Llovesi walked over to the gulakhans' yurts, and saw the fabric opening of one twitch, and a face disappear. So he'd seen the whole thing.

She walked up to the tent flap and pulled it open, sending the light of day into the yurt. A young Dunmer stood there, blinking rapidly, his dirty white hair falling about his face.

"Han-Ammu?" Llovesi asked.

"I don't care what Manirai says," he burst out. "I don't want to be Ashkhan! Everyone despises me. I am a weakling, and a coward, and a fool. I hate it, but it is true. I just want to be left alone."

"Say that enough and you might start to believe it," Llovesi said wryly, but Han-Ammu just blinked at her. She sighed.

"Look at this," she said, showing him Moon-and-Star on her finger. Han-Ammu glanced at it dully.

"Yes," he said. "It is the Moon-and-Star. You are the one they call Nerevarine. But what of it? I am not Ashkhan, so I cannot name you Erabenimsun Nerevarine. You just killed the last man who could. I saw you. You're mad."

He turned his back on her.

"What do you think people see, when they see this ring?" Llovesi persisted.

Han-Ammu, sighed, half-turning back to her. "If I play along, will you leave me in peace? Very well. They see the Nerevarine of course."

"But, if I were to take the ring off..." Llovesi hesitated. She hadn't done that before. She pulled it off her finger. The skin was a little paler where it had sat. Han-Ammu watched, apparently fascinated in spite of himself.

"Now I could be just anyone. But I'm still Nerevarine. That's in here." She tapped her head. "And here." She tapped her chest. "I started the journey to becoming who I am long before I got this ring. The ring is just proof. It's for other people, that's all." She put it back on.

"I don't really understand-" Han-Ammu began, but Llovesi cut across him.

"Look at these things," she said, giving him the robe, amulet and axe. "Do you recognise them?"

He examined them wearily. "Yes," he said, after a pause. "The Robe of Erur-Dan the Wise, Sanit-Kil's Heart of Fire. My father's axe. What have they got to do with anything?"

"They are tokens of your tribe, are they not? You yourself recognised them as such. The robe brings wisdom, the amulet, courage, and the axe, strength. But do you think the men who held these things were particularly brave, strong or wise? Look at what they made of your tribe. But these objects, they show these qualities. They will show them to your tribe. And I think that you may possess them too, inside yourself."

Han-Ammu passed the robe around his shoulders and the amulet over his neck as if in a dream.

"I understand you. It is inside myself that I must find these qualities, but with these tokens I can prove to others my worth as Ashkhan. The fate of the tribe is in my hands. I must accept that responsibility. Thank you for your lesson. But you should keep the axe, I do not want it."

"But it was your father's," Julan said.

"I hated my father. He was a stupid brute, and a bully. I am not the man my father was, and never will be. But you have shown me my duty, and I will do my best."

"The axe may still serve a better man," Llovesi said quietly.

Han-Ammu smiled for the first time, and it changed his face. Weak features became kindly. He picked up the axe.

"Thank you. I promise that, as Ashkhan, I shall do my best to amend the dark reputation of the Erabenimsun. And as my first action as chief, I now name you Erabenimsun Nerevarine, Champion of the Erabenimsun, and Protector of the People. I may wait before announcing this to the tribe. Today's events will take a while to overcome, but I will lead them through it. You must also go to wise woman Manirai and get from her the Seizing of the Erabenimsun, an enchanted heirloom of the tribe, which shall be a sign to all Dunmer that the Erabenimsun have named you Nerevarine. And we know how important signs are, don't we?"

She would be lying to herself if she said Han-Ammu looked like a leader now. He was young, uncertain and in need of a good wash, but he was starting to hold himself more upright and he'd stopped blinking. Maybe, just maybe, he would be okay.

* * *

Manirai was good to Han-Ammu's word, and shortly Llovesi and Julan were leaving the camp with the Seizing of the Erabenimsun, a thick hide-and-metal belt. She done it, she'd completed the Fifth Trial.

"So, that wet blanket Han-Ammu is actually going to lead the tribe?" Julan asked as they followed the trail a short way north, looking for a place to camp for the night.

"It seems so," Llovesi replied.

"You're getting to be a real expert in sorting out misguided young Ashlanders, aren't you? They ought to give you some sort of medal. So... Do you think he'll be good at it? I mean, he was wetter than a week in Sheogorad!"

"Who knows. It's up to him."

"I suppose so. But... he'll be responsible for the safety and happiness of every single person in the tribe! That's terrifying."

Llovesi stopped walking, and gave Julan a piercing look.

"You'll be fine," she said finally.

Julan shook his head. "Yeah, well. I still think it sounds craz-ah!"

His words were cut short suddenly.

There was an ebony dart sticking from his neck. He crumpled slowly to the ground.

Llovesi didn't scream. She dropped to her knees immediately and pulled the dart from his neck, casting a healing spell.

"No. No. Come on, Julan. No..."

His eyelids fluttered.

"Travelling with you is turning out to be a serious health hazard," he mumbled.

Llovesi jumped up again.

"Where are you, you coward!?" she yelled. "Come out and face me, I know it's me you're here for!"

There was a pause, then the assassin in black armour jumped from behind a nearby rock and ran at her, brandishing two lethal looking jinkblades.

There was a soft _twang_ as Julan loosed an arrow. The assassin was sprawling in the dirt before they could touch Llovesi. Julan shot another arrow, it finding its lodging in the assassin's throat beside the first.

"I, unlike you, know how to aim," he said softly, lowering his bow. "Another one of those nutters, Llovesi!"

"I know," she said softly. "I just wish I knew who's sending them, but there's more than a few people who want me dead now. I'll find out soon enough. Come on, let's go back to the Urshilaku tonight, I don't want to sleep alone in the wilderness."

She took the assassin's helmet and placed it in her pack, and then they teleported away, leaving the young Dunmer's body to the cliff racers and the ash.

* * *

**A/N: With this chapter, the Fifth Trial is over, and we are rapidly approaching the climax of Llovesi's story! There're still a few more chapters to go though, so I hope you'll stick around with me until the end! As always, don't hesitate to leave a review or send me a message with your opinions.**


	43. Their Last Hope

**_Chapter 42: Their Last Hope_**

_"The assertions made being in direct contractions of the doctrine of the Tribunal, namely that you are the Nerevarine..."_

_"... made with substantial evidence by the Lord High Archordinator, Berel Sala, Further calls into question the validity and motivations..."_

_"... close and personal examinations of the claims being made..."_

_"... be the acknowledged holder of several ancient titles of power and authority of the Dunmer people, to whit, Hortator of the great Houses and Nerevarine of the Ashlander Tribes..."_

_"... shall present herself for inspection before his Reverend Honour, Archcanon Lord Tholer Saryoni, High Archcanon and Chancellor of Vivec, Archcanon of the Canonry of Vvardenfell, Arch-Priest of the High Fane..."_

_"... present herself in secret... to the healer of the High Fane of Vivec, Danso Indules, and the necessary arrangements will be made..."_

Phrases from the Archcanon's letter rattled around Llovesi's head like bones in a tomb as she sat in the yurt waiting for Julan to wake up.

She would see Nibani Maesa one last time, ask her counsel one last time. Then, she would have to go to Vivec. Going back would be like returning to the hornets' nest after kicking it over. The Ministry of Truth, Orvas Dren, both in the past month. They couldn't have forgotten. But she would go, sure as fire burned hot and ash blew in the wind.

She dressed quickly in travelling clothes and a plain cloak, rolling the precious heirlooms she'd been given inside the Robe of the Hortator and placing it in her pack.

Julan stirred next to her.

"Mmpf, is it time already?" he asked, and yawned.

"Yes. I won't be long," Llovesi replied, taking the Archcanon's letter and leaving the tent.

Dawn was pink on the horizon as Llovesi made her way across the silent camp to Nibani Maesa's yurt. To her surprise, Sul-Matuul was waiting with the wise woman. The wind chimes clinked softly in the morning breeze as Llovesi passed the letter to Nibani Maesa. The wise woman glanced at it briefly, then passed it too Sul-Matuul, who smiled.

"These settled Dunmer are fond of words, are they not?" he said.

Nibani Maesa cleared her throat. "I was blind, but Azura's star has guided me through my dreams. Vivec's high priest, Saryoni, has asked to see you when you are Hortator and Nerevarine. This letter proves this. Go to him, and demand to speak with the false God Vivec. Vivec has tried to keep Kagrenac's Tools secret, but you will need these tools when you stand before Dagoth Ur. Get Kagrenac's Tools from Vivec. They are the keys to the riddle of the Sixth and Seventh Trials."

Sul-Matuul gave her the letter back, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"Go well, Nerevarine," he said. "The thoughts and prayers of all the Urshilaku shall follow you."

* * *

Almsivi Intervention brought Llovesi and Julan to Gnisis, and from there they intended to take the silt strider south to Vivec. The atmosphere in the town was incredibly fraught. Half the merchant stands in the market were abandoned; storage crates were looted, their contents spilling across the ground. There was almost no one around. The reason for this became apparent as they near the silt strider port.

There was a smoking ruin where the Imperial Fort Darius had once stood.

The caravaner caught their gaze, and turned to look at the ruin with hollow eyes.

"Those cultists came in the night. They brought beasts with them, horrible beasts. And they killed everyone in the fort. General Darius died protecting the town. But now, with the fort gone and the Kwama Queen still Blighted, the Legion is going to pull out of Gnisis. And then who will protect us? I'd leave but," he shrugged hopelessly and patted the silt strider, "then who would take care of old Hetty, here?"

Llovesi felt so awful that she paid him almost double the rate to go to Seyda Neen. She was meant to be out there, acting; instead she was shunting from place to place _talking_, while people lost their lives. And it got worse. The caravaner passed on the news that Fort Buckmoth and Fort Pelagiad had been similarly attacked, although not completely destroyed. Raesa Pullia herself had been badly injured. Anyone who wasn't Dunmer was being harassed in the street, having threatening messages sent to their homes. Partly it was the cultists, but a growing number of normal Dunmer were starting to believe that all the tension and strife would disappear if the outlanders would just leave Vvardenfell.

It was night-time by their arrival in Seyda Neen; they had missed the last Silt Strider to Vivec. Llovesi led the way forlornly to the tradehouse to get them a bed for the night. The townsfolk heading home actively turned and gaped as they walked through the town. Llovesi wondered if they recognised her as the girl who had stumbled in, killed a fisherman, then stumbled out again, nearly half a year ago. Probably not. But they certainly recognised her as the Nerevarine. Tales of the prophecy had even reached this sleepy little town.

Arrille turned pale gold when she asked him for a room. "Of, of course, sera," he said. "I hope the room will be to your satisfaction, uh..."

"It was fine five months ago," Llovesi said wearily. Arrille glanced at her more closely.

"Come on," she said. "Surely you don't get that many visitors dropped off by ship in the late afternoon?"

Arrille's jaw would have probably hit the floor if it could. He immediately offered to show her upstairs. Llovesi declined, feeling embarrassed and regretting the conversation. Why did he care so much anyway? It wasn't like a non-Dunmer to act with such awe.

Then she realised: the Nerevarine meant so much more than the Dunmer folk-lore legend now. She was fulfilling tasks people had not thought possible, uniting the Great Houses and the Ashlander Tribes. That meant people probably now truly believed she would slay the Devil and bring peace to Morrowind. If things were becoming more desperate maybe they even believed she was their last hope.

Upstairs, the bar fell into a hush at their arrival. Eyes flew to her ring, then to her face, then to Julan who was standing uncomfortably next to her.

Elone broke the silence first. "A drink, Llovesi and friend?"

"Please," Llovesi said gratefully, feeling as though she really needed one. Just like that the bar resumed normal activity, which in these times meant whispered conversations and nervous glances. Llovesi remembered hardly any of their faces, and there weren't many. Two Nord men whispering together, looking nervous despite their muscle, a robed Imperial reading with a trembling hand. A Dunmer bard in the corner picked up his lute and started to play again. He tapped out a double beat on the wood and plucked a few strings, and a rising tune filled the air.

Llovesi approached him as Elone poured two matzes.

"That's pretty," she said. "It sounds almost like a heartbeat. I'm sure we can all use music in times like these. What do you call it?"

The Dunmer paused and his eyes followed the customary path: ring to face. He settled the lute in his lap.

"I called it 'Call of Magic'. But I've been thinking about changing the name. I like 'Nerevar Rising', personally."

Llovesi was aware of everyone's eyes on her again.

"If you mean it for me: thank you," she muttered. "But I haven't even done anything yet."

The Dunmer man resumed the song, the soft notes rising into the air again.

"But you're going to, aren't you?" It was the robed Imperial.

"You know the Nerevarine was prophesied to drive out the outlanders and restore Morrowind to the Dunmer?" Llovesi asked him, then bit her tongue. She sounded like a member of the Cammona Tong.

But the man just shrugged.

"All I know is you're prophesied to kill Dagoth Ur and end the Blight. I'm not sure what to believe. But I know people can't go on the way things are."

"You have done things," Elone said softly. "From what I've heard you've destroyed some fairly major Sixth House bases. You've been named Hortator and Nerevarine. Those are no mean feats."

Everyone was watching her know, waiting for her to speak, no doubt to say something heroic.

"I'm going to bed," Llovesi said abruptly, leaving Julan and the matzes sitting at the bar.

* * *

At some point in the night she felt Julan sink into bed next to her. She felt ridiculous. Now, of all times, was not the moment to be having a crisis of confidence. What could she tell them though, when they looked at her with such hope? That the prophecies weren't as cast-iron as they believed? That she might fail? That she would try her best?

_It'll have to be the last one_, she thought, turning over in the narrow bed. _I make my own fate_. She would use this meeting with the Archcanon to get to Vivec, get Kagrenac's Tools from him, then go to Dagoth Ur and kill him with them.

It all sounded so simple when she said it in her head.

* * *

The silt strider had them in Vivec by midday. Llovesi and Julan started down the grassy hill to the Foreign Quarter, when they stopped suddenly. Julan clutched her arm. Ordinators were guarding the entrance. They watched as a weary looking traveller approached by the road, and was pulled aside to be interrogated.

"What do we do?" Julan asked.

"We go by water," Llovesi said, pulling on her gloves and pulling up her hood. "Come on."

Julan cast water walk on them both and they slipped round the left of the Foreign Quarter, hugging the canton wall and ducking underneath the foul-smelling outflows from the canal works. They could hear the sounds of many boots on stone as they ran south. Llovesi's worst fears were confirmed. The Ordinator patrols had been significantly increased.

"I hope this isn't a trap," she said, wishing her voice wouldn't betray her fear.

On foot, it took them an hour and a half to reach the Temple canton. Vivec was so different from below, the great cantons rising above them, and only the sound of water and the occasional distant conversation trickling down to them for company.

To their dismay, it turned out the gondola ports were also being guarded by Ordinators. They watched the Temple canton from the water, and determined that, although heavily guarded; the patrol of Ordinators walking round occasionally left the back of the High Fane unguarded. Julan levitated them up.

"She'll be a priestess, Dunmer, probably wearing a robe," Llovesi said, pulling a scroll of invisibility from her pack.

"There," Julan pointed. A woman in a faded blue robe was standing in the Temple tunnel. They ran into the tunnel before the patrol could pass again. Danso Indules looked nervous, though she was clearly hiding it well. Llovesi caught her arm, becoming visible, and the woman flinched but managed to restrain a noise in her throat.

"I'm Llovesi," she said.

"We have heard of your successes. You wanted to meet the Archcanon?" Danso whispered urgently in reply. Llovesi nodded.

"Good," Danso whispered. "He is in his private quarters in the southern half of the East Chapel of the High Fane. But there are Ordinators at the entrances to both the East and West Chapels. I am to warn you... avoid-"

Suddenly there was a great yell, interrupting Danso Indules mid-speech.

"Wanted criminals! Inform Berel Sala!"

There were Ordinators running towards them. Danso Indules gasped, her eyes wide, and turned to run, but Ordinators were coming down the other end of the tunnel too, and she bumped straight into them.

"Good work in apprehending these criminals, sister," an Ordinator said.

"You!" Llovesi shouted, her face twisting with rage. "You betrayed us!"

"No!" Danso Indules shouted, first to Llovesi and then to the Ordinators: "No! Surly the Archcanon has spoken with you? They are not criminals. They are to pass unharmed!"

An Ordinator grabbed her arms roughly. "We answer to Berel Sala. If you are not with us, then you are a traitor and a heretic. A pity. Take them all to the Ministry!"

The Ordinators from the back end of the tunnel still hadn't reached them. Llovesi seized her chance and ran: pushing passed the surprised couple holding Danso Indules, Julan hot on her heels.

Llovesi had just breached the tunnel entrance when Julan yelled behind her. An Ordinator had caught up to him and was twisting his arms behind his back.

Her heart in her throat, Llovesi drew her spears.

"No, Llovesi!" Julan yelled, his hair falling in his face as he twisted, in vain. "Just go! Get to the Archcanon!"

Llovesi ran. Knowing she couldn't kill the Ordinators, she swiped at them, using her spears like staves, driving blunt blows into their chests to wind them or at their legs to trip them. They chased her into the chapel, past shocked priests, and down the steps. She was faster though, and hammered on the door to the Archcanon's private quarters.

A man with a mild expression and wearing a rich purple robe opened it.

"Ah," he said, "You must be Llovesi. Thank you for coming. You-"

"Listen," Llovesi said, sweaty and panting, hearing the Ordinators' boots approaching. "They've taken Danso Indules and my fiancé Julan Kaushibael to the Ministry of Truth. I will not discuss anything with you until they are freed."

Tholer Saryoni's eyebrows shot up his forehead, but before he could reply, Ordinators burst in the opposite door and came clattering down the steps. They hesitated, seeing Llovesi standing nest to the Archcanon. One stepped forward, removing his golden helm respectfully.

"Archcanon," he said, and bowed his head. "Surely you are aware of this... individual. Temple doctrine-"

"Temple doctrine can be changed," Saryoni said smoothly, although Llovesi noticed that he was clenching his fists so hard his knuckles were turning white. "Now, I understand you have arrested a companion of the young woman, and a Temple priestess. Please bring them here to me. Immediately."

The Ordinator hesitated, confusion spreading across his features. "But Berel Sala-"

"Is not the Archcanon of the Temple, is he?" Saryoni asked, again cutting across the other Dunmer. "Now, please do as I asked."

The Ordinators turned and left, confusion and resentment spreading through the crowd.

Saryoni sighed, and beckoned Llovesi inside his office. "We're lucky that worked," he said. "Truth be told I have very little control over the Ordinators these days. We are fortunate Berel Sala was not among them."

Llovesi said nothing, but watched the Archcanon with dislike. As far as she was concerned, all this persecution was his fault. As the head of the Temple, surely it was he who had given the word to persecute the Dissident priests, to imprison Mehra Milo, to hunt down the Incarnates. Still, if he could get her a meeting with Vivec, and Julan and the priestess would be okay now... she bit her tongue.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and two Ordinators entered with Danso and Julan both looking disgruntled but none the worse for wear.

"Archcanon!" Danso cried. "What is going on? To be arrested in such away, when I was only trying to do my duty to the Temple-"

"Yes, we were just going to talk about the Temple," Saryoni said, moving behind his desk. "Please, have a seat, all of you. As I was just saying to our zealous young protectors, I believe it is time the Temple's doctrine changed."

"Fancy that," Julan said shortly, scowling.

Saryoni nodded briefly, and continued: "You know our position on the Nerevarine. The Temple must protect the people from false doctrines. And your association with Imperial intelligence makes your motivations and integrity suspect. But you have been chosen Hortator and Nerevarine by the Dunmer people. And we have reached a crisis with Dagoth Ur. We can no longer defend the people against the awakened Sixth House. You and your prophecies may represent our last hope."

"Finally realised that, have you?" Julan asked, his arms still folded in hostility.

"Our situation is desperate. But I would rather have you hear the details of our situation, and the circumstances leading up to that situation, from Lord Vivec himself. He has asked to see you, Llovesi. Would you agree to a private meeting with him, and hear in person what he has to say?"

There was silence in the room. Llovesi couldn't believe it. So she wouldn't even have to ask. But why did Vivec want to see her? _He must know why I'm here._

"Yes," she said slowly. "I will meet with Vivec."

"Good," Saryoni said, and opened a drawer in his desk. "Here are two keys: one to the private back entrance to my quarters, the other to a locked entrance to Lord Vivec's palace. As you have seen, the Ordinators are not completely under my control, so, for now, I'll ask you to avoid any more confrontations with them. Lord Vivec is expecting you. His Lordship is remarkably patient, but perhaps it would be better not to keep him waiting. Sister Indules, if you could show them out?"

The priestess took the first key Saryoni offered, and unlocked the door at the back off the office.

"Head down the stairs and turn right, the door will lead to the back of the Temple canton. The Palace is the last canton to the south. Good luck."

* * *

Llovesi had often seen the Palace of Vivec rising in the distance behind the cantons, but she had never truly appreciated its imposing majesty. It was huge, a five-tiered construction with a round, many pillared building sat upon the top tier. Waterfalls ran down the tiers, cascading into shallow canals that looked and smelt far fresher than the water surrounding the rest of Vivec. They started up the great stone steps, but Julan caught Llovesi's arm.

"You're not going to actually go, are you?" he asked. "He'll murder you! Again! You know he's on a mission to destroy the Nerevarine. You need to get out of here!"

"I won't say the thought hadn't crossed my mind. But Saryoni said that the doctrine might change. Besides, I have to speak to Vivec to get Kagrenac's tools."

"Okay," Julan didn't look any happier, but he dropped her arm. "Just don't get caught off-guard, okay? You're prophesied to destroy the power of the false Gods. Don't let him trick you, he's done it once before."

"I'm prophesied to do a lot of things - doesn't mean I'm actually going to do them," Llovesi said pointedly, and they finished ascending the steps.

She fitted the key to the lock on the door, and pushed it open.

"I expected you. We have business, you and I."

The door swung shut behind them, and the Palace returned to a half-lit gloom. Llovesi could make out three pillars, smooth and curving, rising up to the ceiling, and three braziers, each standing at a corner of a triangular plinth and casting a dim, flickering light. And standing, no, hovering above the plinth was...

Llovesi blinked and stepped forward. Vivec looked like a man, at least, he was mer-shaped, but he didn't look like her image of an immortal being. Yet again, he didn't look like any mer she'd ever seen either.

The right half of his body was golden like an Altmer, _Chimer_, the left, as ashen as a Dunmer's. He watched her with slightly surprised golden eyes. His head was shaven; his body equally unadorned, he wore only a loincloth and ornate pauldrons. And his voice too, was unlike any accent she'd ever heard, deep and clear.

He folded his legs in mid-air, and continued to watch her, unblinking. Llovesi found she had lost her voice.

"When I was young like you, I was very impatient," Vivec said. "So I will keep our business short. Then, later, there may be time for other things. First, I propose to remove my curse upon the Nerevarine, end the persecution of the Dissident Priests, and proclaim to all Morrowind that Llovesi is the Incarnate and Nerevarine, the prophesied saviour of Morrowind, and the last hope to withstand the menace of Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House. These things I will do, whether you wish or not."

Llovesi found that her tongue was still tied. Of all the things he could have said, she had not expected that. Vivec continued:

"Next, I propose to surrender to you the power and responsibility of defeating Dagoth Ur. You may choose to refuse; I will not compel you. You will receive the power as a gift, in the form of an artefact called 'Wraithguard'. You may accept the gift, then do with it as you will. You will receive the responsibility as an oath. You may give your oath, then keep it or break it as you like. First, will you accept Wraithguard as a gift?"

This was more like it. Llovesi recognised the name 'Wraithguard' from her meeting with Gilvas Barelo. It was one of Kagrenac's tools.

"I will accept Wraithguard."

"Good. Sensible of you. And now, will you give your oath, before all Gods and men, before all spirits visible and invisible, before my honour and your honour, to dedicate yourself and Wraithguard to the defeat and destruction of Dagoth Ur, and the preservation of Morrowind and its people?"

"I will."

"Not very sensible. But very good. I was hoping for someone who would have no hesitations about making such an oath. You will now have a brief, momentary sensation of time passing. Don't be alarmed. You are being taken out of time in order to avoid the unpleasant experience of learning how to use Wraithguard. It will be over before..."

... And the room went dark and she was floating, blind and weightless...

"... you know it."

Llovesi felt cool, heavy metal on her right hand and lifted it up to the light in wonder. She was wearing a gauntlet of Dwemer make. The large, golden sleeve stretched to her elbow, and her fingers were encased in impossibly delicate metalwork. She flexed her hand carefully, and felt the powerful protective enchantments that the gauntlet held. Vivec hadn't taken his eyes off of her.

"Now," he said. "I will notify the Temple that you are our champion. There shall be no more persecution of the Dissident Priests, and I hope both sides shall swiftly be reconciled. We have time for questions, if you like. Or you may leave, as you wish. But I think before you leave you ought to know how to defeat Dagoth Ur."

"Yes," Llovesi said, letting her hand fall back to her side. "Don't I need Sunder and Keening as well?"

"You do. Unfortunately these artefacts were lost ten years ago. To defeat Dagoth Ur, go to Red Mountain to recover the artefact hammer Sunder from Gate Citadel Vemynal, then recover the artefact blade Keening from Gate Citadel Odrosal. Then proceed with Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to the citadel of Dagoth Ur. Within the citadel, find the Heart of Lorkhan. Use the three artefacts to sever Dagoth Ur's connection to the Heart, and he will be destroyed, and the Blight ended on Morrowind. To sever the connection, strike the Heart with the artefact hammer Sunder once, then strike the Heart more than once with the artefact blade Keening. You must wear Wraithguard, because you cannot handle either Sunder or Keening unless you are wearing Wraithguard. That is the short, simple explanation. The long, detailed explanation I have written down for you. Come."

The news about the location of the tools was a heavy blow, but the news that there was a plan assuaged it slightly. Vivec landed lightly on the ground, and walked to the back of the Palace where several sheets of parchment were placed on plinths. Llovesi followed him.

"This is the plan to defeat Dagoth Ur," he said, retrieving one telekinetically and hovering it in front of her. Llovesi plucked it from the air.

"Read it, study it, commit it to memory."

"And these others?"

"I want your trust. And willing cooperation. So I've had the priests make copies of a number of documents. They're here for you to read or take with you. Take a look at them. Help yourself. This document summarises what we know or suspect about Dagoth Ur's plans. I have also made available two conflicting accounts of the events of Red Mountain, my own true account, and another false account common among the Ashlanders and preserved in the Apographa. I don't care whether you believe my account or not. I leave it up to you to judge which is true."

Llovesi watched him, and questions bubbled to the surface of her mind. She didn't know how to ask them. Julan would have had no problem, but he was standing round-eyed and silent by the entrance.

"How did this happen?" she asked finally. "How did you let him get so strong?"

Vivec gave her a piercing look, and his eyes shone so brightly that Llovesi became almost afraid, but his voice was unchanging as he replied:

"Dagoth Ur is strong because he is close to the source of power, Lorkhan's Heart. And because he retains the passion of madness, while we have settled into the lonely and unrewarding posture of dogged dutifulness and perseverance. And, finally, perhaps because he is stronger and smarter than we are, and his followers are more fervent and fanatical. I believe we were careless and complacent, and out-witted. And, in the matter of denying the Nerevarine, we were foolish.

"You threatened the faith of my followers, and I needed their faith to hold back the darkness. I thought you were my enemy - a pawn of the subtle Daedra Lord Azura, or a pawn of Emperor Uriel Septim, or a simple fraud - perhaps a Hero - but not much of one if my faithful could destroy you.

"I supressed the Apographa for the same reason. It was such an unfortunate mixture of truth, falsehood, and speculation that I couldn't afford to manage the confused reaction of our faithful. Any doubt whatsoever weakened their faith, and we needed their faith to give us the power to maintain the Ghostfence. In retrospect, perhaps we lost the faith of those we most needed while preserving the faith of the meek and indifferent. Perhaps a mistake was made. Who can say?

"I believe we erred in trusting the judgement of Berel Sala. He and his Ordinators served valiantly in the war against Dagoth Ur. We mistook his misplaced zeal for energy and dedication. Mistakes were made there. But no more. There shall be no more persecution of the Dissident Priests, and I hope both sides shall swiftly be reconciled. Now circumstances are altered. I need you, and you need me."

Llovesi nodded, but there was still one thing she had to say, one thing that was burning on tip of her tongue.

"But you have caused so much suffering. Why?"

At this Vivec did look slightly surprised, or at least, his features rearranged to convey a slightly different emotion to his usual expression. He spoke as he walked back to his plinth:

"Why did I cause others to suffer? I respect that question, and you for it. The most I can say is: I did the best I could, as I saw things. Can you, mortal, presume to judge the actions and motives of a God? But, because I need you, and you need me, I will make an accounting for my sins, to you. But not now. Destroy Dagoth Ur, and then we will discuss my sins. Then, perhaps, you will have earned the right to judge me."

He resumed his position floating in mid-air, and closed his eyes. Llovesi took that to mean their meeting was finished. She took all the documents he had laid out for her and left the Palace with Julan.

As soon as they stepped outside, she could tell something was wrong. There were screams in the distance, and smoke rising from the St. Delyn and St. Olms cantons.

A man in Indoril armour was approaching from the bottom of the steps. An Ordinator. He was helmetless, and his long white hair was wild and streaked with blood.

"You!" he called in a voice that was barely under control. "You...! Look what you have caused. Your heresy will destroy the city! The people are rioting! The sleepers are awakening! The Sixth House is rising! And it is all your fault! Your lies and treachery have weakened the faith of the people and we can no longer control them! The city will have to be cleansed, and I shall start by removing the head of the instigator! In the name of Lord Vivec!"

He raised his mace high, and suddenly looked completely deranged.

"Berel Sala."

The mace clattered from his hand, and Berel Sala dropped to his knees. Vivec looked smaller and paler in the sunlight, yet somehow more imposing for it. His outlandish nature threw him into sharper relief.

He cast a long gaze over the cantons.

"My city is burning, Berel Sala. My people need your help. What are you doing here?"

"The False Incarnate, Lord Vivec," Berel Sala muttered to the ground, apparently not daring to look up. "It is her fault. She has brought this woe upon us."

"Llovesi is the Incarnate and Nerevarine, the prophesied saviour of Morrowind, and the last hope to withstand the menace of Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House."

Berel Sala's head shot up, his mouth opening and shutting as if he was gasping for air.

"I am ending the persecution of the Dissident priests. I hope for a swift reconcilement between them and our Temple. Llovesi is our champion, and so shall her persecution end too. Do you have anything to say, or will you now go to the defence of our city?"

Berel Sala got shakily to his knees, looking as if the entire world had been swept from under his feet.

"I will, Lord Vivec."

"Good. Please send Tholer Saryoni to speak with me as soon as he has a moment."

Vivec, stared out over the city, his gaze impassive.

"Llovesi, one last counsel. Speak with the Ordinators and Buoyant Armigers at Ghostgate. Stockpile resources. Plan for retreat and replenishment. Quest for artefacts of power. In short: prepare for war. Beyond the Ghostfence, there are no safe places, no allies."

He turned back to the Palace, then laid a hand on her shoulder. Llovesi felt electricity run through her body at his touch. It was both thrilling, and terrifying.

"Good luck."

* * *

**A/N: I actually quite enjoyed writing this chapter, despite it being quite boring and talky-talky in game (well, not the Vivec bit, Vivec is interesting - but still, a lot of talking). So I tried to spice up the action a bit. And man, Vivec is hard to write! Don't worry, it's definitely not the last time we'll be seeing him. As always, read&review if it takes your fancy.**


	44. The Bare Bones

_**Chapter 43: The Bare Bones**_

The plan had five steps.

Llovesi sat on her bed in the Fighters Guild Quarters, surrounded by parchment and quills, and ran through them in her head again and again.

_One. _A series of aggressive raids to scout inside the Ghostfence.

_Two. _A series of aggressive raids to neutralise Dagoth Ur's Ash Vampire kin, and recover artefacts from the bodies of his kin.

_Three. _An assault of Gate Citadel Vemynal to neutralise Dagoth Vemyn and recover the artefact hammer Sunder.

_Four_. An assault of Gate Citadel Odrosal to neutralise Dagoth Odros and recover the artefact blade Keening.

_Five. _An assault of Citadel Dagoth with the artefacts Wraithguard, Sunder and Keening to sever Dagoth Ur's connection the Heart of Lorkhan, and thus to destroy Dagoth Ur.

"I don't believe a word of it." Julan stretched and placed the parchment he had been reading, Vivec's account of the Battle of Red Mountain, back on the pile of papers.

"I don't suppose it really matters if we believe it or not," Llovesi said absent-mindedly as she placed the _Plan to Defeat Dagoth Ur _down and picked up _Dagoth Ur's Plans _again. "What I really need is to understand his motivations. To get inside his head."

"I _don't _think that's a thing you want to do!" Julan said, peering at Llovesi's notes.

"No, you know what I mean. According to this," she waved the parchment she was currently reading, "he's pretty advanced in his plans. He's attacked cities. He could launch a full-scale attack if he wanted to. But the riot yesterday, that wasn't really him, that was just people panicking. No, I think he hasn't attacked properly yet because he's curious about what I'll do. Maybe he still thinks there's a chance I want to join him. Maybe I can use that to get closer."

She turned back to the _Plan_ and read aloud:

"_The Element of Surprise. Dagoth Ur will not expect you to destroy Kagrenac's enchantments on the Heart. He does not know it is possible, he would not do it himself, and he knows we have never tried it. He will not believe anyone would want to sacrifice the promise of such power. Further, advancement in House Dagoth, as in all Great Houses, is by challenge and confrontation within the hierarchy. The Nerevarine's challenges and defeat of ash vampires and battles with the Sixth House will be viewed in that light._

_"Dagoth Ur and his kin may assume the Nerevarine's ambition is to control the Heart. Given that assumption, it is only reasonable that the Nerevarine would try to defeat each of Dagoth Ur's subordinates in turn, working up to Dagoth Ur. If the Nerevarine can defeat Dagoth Ur, and control the Heart, so much the better. But logically the Nerevarine would wish to rise as high in the hierarchy as possible before cutting a deal with head of the House._

_"Dagoth Ur should try to recruit the Nerevarine into House Dagoth. It may be possible to pretend to join him, then betray him. However, any attempt to deceive him will be very risky. House Dagoth has a tradition of subterfuge and treachery, and because he is a deceiver, he will expect deception."_

There was a knock at the door. Percius Mercius appeared, carrying some wrapped bundles.

"You don't have to knock Guildmaster," Llovesi said, putting the parchment back on the bed and turning away from the idea that had been half-forming in her mind.

"I thought you might be hard at work, Nerevarine." He smiled at her grimace. "Look, you call me Percius, I'll call you Llovesi, okay? I've brought some old things for you."

He placed the packages on a neighbouring bed and unwrapped them, revealing a glass cuirass, glass greaves and glass boots.

"Percius," Llovesi said, almost choking his name in shock, "I can't accept these!"

"You can and you will. I certainly won't be using them anymore. Look, just get some adjustments made and they'll serve you well. I want to see you come back in one piece from that mountain."

He turned to go before Llovesi could protest any more.

"Oh, and one more thing. Duke Vedam Dren has just sent a courier. He wants to speak with you. There'll be a meeting, at the Ebonheart Council Chambers, tomorrow morning at 9am. Good luck."

* * *

Llovesi only really understood why Percius had wished her good luck after the meeting.

It turned out to be more than a private affair with the Duke, but rather a large-scale diplomatic meeting with one intention: to find out what her plans were. Now that the Archcanon had proclaimed Vivec's words to the whole of Vvardenfell, there was only one question on the population's lips: what was she, the Nerevarine, going to do next? It was in all of the newspapers, it jumped from mouth to mouth in the streets and flitted in and out of taverns like an indecisive drunk. And then, in the Grand Council Chambers, they had asked her the same question.

She stood there, in font of the Duke and his advisors, in front of high-ranking Legion and Temple representatives, in front of great House councillors who looked like they'd only just teleported in, and in front of retainers and clerks hovering at the back of the room, and she hadn't known what to say.

Or, more accurately, she hadn't known what she could say. Telling the room that she intended the take the same tools the Tribunal had used to steal their Godhood and destroy the source of their divine power was probably out of the question. Not to mention they wouldn't have believed her. She couldn't rule out the possibility of there being spies either.

So she'd sketched the bare bones of her intentions to begin guerrilla campaigns in the Red Mountain region, with the help of the Armigers and Ordinators, ending in an assault on Dagoth Ur's citadel. She'd also urged the Great Houses and the Legion to put all of their effort into locating and neutralising Sixth House bases outside of the Ghostfence. There had been an overwhelming sense of dissatisfaction as people filed away at the end of the meeting, muttering among themselves. People wanted to hear of heroism, how she was going to march up to Dagoth Ur herself and challenge him singlehandedly.

Duke Vedam Dren stood up slowly as the room emptied, watching her with an expression Llovesi wasn't fond of. He was older than his brother had been, his face more lined, but he carried a similarly shrewd expression. She made to leave to find Julan outside. All she wanted to do know was focus on the tasks ahead, to get away from the politics and talking.

"Nerevarine, a moment."

She turned back reluctantly. The Duke waved his advisors away and approached her.

"I am under the impression that you did not perhaps divulge the whole truth concerning your plans just now."

Llovesi opened her mouth, but he held up a hand:

"Please, let me continue. I will not demand that you tell me what you are going to do; I imagine you have good reasons for keeping the details to yourself. My staff have been keeping me up-to-date on your adventures, of course. I daresay I knew you'd been named Hortator and Nerevarine before the Temple did. I also know what you had to do to obtain those titles. I know how my brother died."

"He was plotting against you. I have proof." She handed him the letter she'd taken from Orvas Dren's body, she'd had it ready just in case. But he only glanced at it briefly before replying.

"I knew. I am saddened at his death, but perhaps it was necessary."

He paused. Llovesi hadn't expected the dialogue to take such a turn of events, and waited cautiously to see what he would say next.

"Of course you understand this means I cannot like you. But I believe you are necessary. We have grown too complacent about the threat of Dagoth Ur and Red Mountain. For ages we've relied on the Tribunal to contain the menace. But Dagoth Ur's power is waxing as the Tribunal's power is waning. The Legion garrisons here are insufficient to protect our settlements, and there's no hope for reinforcements. Our people have always relied on a charismatic leader to rally squabbling factions against a common foe. You are that leader. Now we must rely on you.

"Now the Archcanon has announced that Lord Vivec has selected you as a champion of the Temple in the war against Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House, the fate of Morrowind and its people lies in your hands.

"You understand why I could not say this in front of the others. My position towards you is difficult to reconcile in my heart. But in my head, I know that this is politics. Our common peril and purpose must unite us. So, I hope we are at an understanding. Deliver my people, Nerevarine."

* * *

The Duke's words lay heavy upon her mind as she and Julan packed their belongings in camp Kaushibael that afternoon. They took nearly everything they had accumulated together over the past few months: enchanted items, weapons, treasures, and potions. What they couldn't use they would trade for other goods and services.

The yurt looked much emptier when they were done, and there were two heavy packs sitting on the beach. Mashti came to bid them goodbye, tears in her eyes, whispering a prayer to Azura for their safety.

Then they were off, hiking south towards Ghostgate in the cool, crisp breeze.

* * *

Twilight was sweeping over the Ashlands as Llovesi and Julan arrived. there was now a sizeable encampment of guards - now these were soldiers now. Legion soldiers and Great House soldiers alike, camping outside Ghostgate to protect Vvardenfell from the increasing numbers of creatures that were escaping its magical noose. They walked through the makeshift tents, nodding at weary and frightened looking men and women, to the Tower of Dusk. The Buoyant Armigers had a reputation for being more hospitable than the Ordinators in the other tower. There were few pilgrims and travellers at Ghostgate these days, for obvious reasons, so they found the tower mostly empty as they wound their way up to the House Redoran hostel on the top floor.

They entered a large circular room, set out as a sparse but comfortable lounge bar and dining area. A few Buoyant Armigers were standing around, talking and drinking. Then they saw Llovesi and Julan and, for a few moments, silence reigned. Then their gazes turned away, and the terse conversations returned. Llovesi approached the bar and eased her pack from her aching shoulders.

"We need beds," she said to the redheaded Dunmer woman wiping the bar down. "And probably for quite a while too."

The woman looked up and deep into Llovesi's eyes. "Certainly, muthsera," she said finally. "You may stay for as long as you like."

"So, you are Llovesi, and Julan. Well met."

Llovesi turned to the Buoyant Armiger addressing them, a hardy Dunmer of indeterminable age, dressed in traditional chitin.

"Well met," she replied.

"The Archcanon has announced that Lord Vivec has selected you as a champion of the Temple in the war against Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House. We have orders to provide you with anything you may need."

"I need maps, intelligence, information: anything you have on Red Mountain and the crater citadels. We're going to lead a campaign against Dagoth Ur, and we need to be as prepared as possible."

The Buoyant Armiger led them to a table. "Certainly," he said. "We will be glad to assist you in this endeavour. Unfortunately, all of our intelligence is old. No one has ventured far inside the fence for years. Perhaps it is time to change that. Allow me to fetch Grand Marshal Omayn."

"Already here, Haynes."

A truly terrifying being was striding towards them. Glad all in glass armour, she was wearing an intimidating Daedric helmet that transformed her features into a fearsome scowl. Fortunately, when she removed it, a perfectly ordinary Dunmeri face was revealed.

She smiled grimly and shook Llovesi and Julan's hands in turn.

"Galdal Omayn, leader of the Buoyant Armigers, at your service, Nerevarine."

"Please, call me Llovesi."

The Buoyant Armiger nodded curtly, yet continued to address Llovesi as 'Nerevarine' as they talked. After a while, Llovesi stopped noticing as they focused on the plans Vivec had given her, and pored over the old maps of Red Mountain.

"You'll need endurance, Nerevarine. Red Mountain is no West Gash hike. And you'll need strength and willpower to fight these creatures over an extended period of time. Don't be afraid of dropping back here to heal and rest up. Train with us. Use our facilities. Now," Galdal said, turning back to the plans, "it seems to me like your current priority is to neutralise these 'Ash Vampires'."

Llovesi nodded.

"Then you should know this: there are seven of them. From what you've said, you've already dealt with Dagoth Uthol in Kogoruhn. Congratulations. Dagoths Edus, Odros, Vemyn and Tureynul live in the citadels that have now come to bear their names. It stands to reason that Dagoth Ur is keeping one of his lieutenants close to him, in the citadel of Dagoth Ur. So that leaves you with Dagoths Gilvoth and Araynys. One with Dagoth Ur, the other... we're not sure."

She tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"But I have a hunch. We've long suspected the old caverns of Mamaea to be a hotbed for Sixth House activity. Unfortunately, they're deep in the West Gash and far from any of our strongholds so we've been unable to investigate thus far. But I wonder if they might just be housing an Ash Vampire."

_Mamaea_...the name sounded familiar to Llovesi. Well, it was the name of the Ahemmusa healer, but it rang something else in her mind and she couldn't think what.

"Sounds like that will be my first step then," she said.

* * *

They trained hard for the rest of the week. By some divine stroke of fortune, one of the Buoyant Armigers was a master spear trainer, and he pushed Llovesi harder than she'd ever worked before, insisting upon precision of technique and giving her endurance exercises. She'd expected no less though, working with Vivec's elite. The smith in the tower spent a day working on Llovesi's and Julan's armour, so when they set out for the caverns of Mamaea a week into Sun's Dawn, they felt prepared.

It was strange to be leaving Ghostgate so soon after they had arrived but, as Llovesi told herself, they were finally moving forward now.

* * *

Llovesi shoved the cavern door hard with her shoulder, and felt the rotten wood splinter on impact. It gave way to a gloomy tunnel, and they stepped out of the rain, past the scratched and faded sign reading: '_Mamaea, Sanctum of Awakening'_ into the dark.

"Urgh," Julan said immediately. "There is something deeply, horribly wrong with this place."

"Well, it is a Sixth House base," Llovesi said, but his instincts towards the place were, as usual, correct.

The rocky cave walls faded smoothly to an off-white colour that put Llovesi unpleasantly in mind of bone. The walls seemed thin, almost unstable, as if they could splinter and break at any moment. It sounded wrong too, their voices echoed around unpleasantly and each footstep sent a shiver down Llovesi's spine. A chill wind blew through the tunnels, like the howling of spirits.

"We see you false one. You flesh will feed us all."

A Dreamer, wearing a metal cuirass and boots, but naked otherwise, was sprinting towards them. Llovesi tripped him and sent her spear into the soft flesh of his belly, where the poorly-laced cuirass gaped, feeling a wave of pity as she did so. Her nightly battles of the mind had put the Dreamers into new light for her, and she couldn't see them as entirely responsible for their situation now. It took willpower to resist Dagoth Ur's whisperings, she knew only too well.

Julan bent down. "Strange that he's wearing a cuirass," he said. "What's this?"

A small key engraved with the word 'cells' had fallen from a pouch on the dead Dreamer's cuirass.

"Llovesi," Julan said, his eyes wide, you don't think they're imprisoning _people_ here, do you?"

"Why would they keep prisoners?" Llovesi asked, then her gaze wandered back unwittingly to the pale walls, and her mind to the golem Akulakhan that Dagoth Ur was building, as well as to the Dreamer's last words: "_your flesh will feed us all_..."

"I sincerely hope not," she said. "Let's keep going."

But Julan's fears were confirmed further into the caverns as they fought their way through Dreamers and Ash Slaves. They started finding cells, whole passages of caves with crude wooden planks closing off their entrances. And in the caves, skeletons. Piles and piles of bones, some still appropriating the sense of a mortal being, some still in clothes, some still clinging to rotten flesh.

They walked through the passageways of dead prisoners, too horrified to talk. As they passed a cell at the end, one of the bodies moved.

Llovesi jumped back, her heart in her throat. _What horrific new enchantment was this?_

The corpse raised a near translucent hand to the planks and moaned.

"Please, please help me..."

_He's still alive._

Llovesi had never seen anyone so thin. His skin moulded to his bones, his limbs were like twigs, yet his stomach was tight and swollen. Rags were falling off his hips, his red eyes bulged from a face that was pale green and slicked with sweat There were oozing sores around his mouth, and as Llovesi moved closer with a torch, she saw the same sores cracking his fragile skin all over his body.

"Mephala!" Julan said. "This is horrible! We have to help him!" He fitted the key to the cell door with a trembling hand, and knelt down by the collapsed man, whispering a spell to cure Blight disease. Where Julan's hands touched, the man's sores faded and disappeared.

Llovesi found a potion to restore fatigue and brought it silently to the man's lips. He swallowed it in great gulps.

"Careful, don't choke yourself," Llovesi whispered gently. "Who are you?"

The man's eyes fluttered and he spoke in a frail voice whose strength was starting to return:

"My name is Hannat Zainsubani... I entered this cavern seeking shelter from the weather, and these madmen stripped me and imprisoned me here. While I've been trapped here, I've had the most terrible dreams. I... don't know if I can trust my own eyes and ears. And they left me no food. I've had to drink... and eat... " He gestured at the corpses sharing his cave and collapsed into dry sobs. Llovesi understood. Such an action would be horrendous for anyone, but for a Dunmer to so desecrate the dead would be tantamount to unforgivable sin.

Her blood ran cold, and she held the shaking man in her arms, trying in vain to comfort him. _Hannat Zainsubani_. No wonder Mamaea sounded familiar in her mind. How long ago had she talked to the trader, Hassour Zainsubani, this young man's father? How many months had he been trapped here, forced to commit the unthinkable just to survive?

"Please," he sobbed weakly, pawing at her, "please, take me out of here!"

"I will, I promise. But... I need to find and kill the Ash Vampire that lives here."

Hannat's hands flew to his widening eyes. "The tall one!" he cried. "He whispers to me in my dreams! He fights with fang and claw! Please don't make me go to him!"

Llovesi looked helplessly at Julan, as Hannat clutched at each of them in turn.

"No," Julan said. "I know what you're thinking, and no."

"I can do it, Julan. Just stay with him. I'll be fine."

Julan shook his head, but she could see he had no other solutions. "I love you," he said finally, as if it were a final plea.

"I love you too. I'll be back before you know it."

So Llovesi left Julan kneeling with the sobbing young Dunmer, and set out to find the Dagoth who was no doubt waiting for her.

* * *

She didn't have to look far.

Llovesi was walking carefully down the spine of the cavern, her heart pounding and spear raised, when a deep clear voice rang out:

"You've done well to come this far."

She spun round, making an effort to remain clam and prepared.

The Dagoth walked round the passageway to face her. He was as Dagoth Uthol had been, so tall that his ornate hairstyle scraped the ceiling of the tunnel. His long claws were caked with blood, and he held a lethal looking dagger in his right hand.

He considered her, tilting his head this way and that.

"I don't think we have anything to talk about, do we?" he said. "Let's get on with it."

He didn't move.

"Get on with it?" Llovesi asked, raising her spear, wondering why she was even responding.

He laughed, a short, brittle noise. "I'm going to kill you. You don't believe that, or you wouldn't be here. You are the challenger, so, by House Dagoth custom, yours is the first move." He inclined his head.

Llovesi ran at him with her spear levelled. He dodged easily, but she'd been feinting, expecting him to react quickly. She dived, rolled and tripped him, but he corrected himself easily and lunged viciously with the dagger and his claws.

Searing pain paralysed Llovesi's muscles, and she realised the dagger carried a powerful shock enchantment.

The Ash Vampire laughed his brittle laugh again, and fell upon her, slicing her flesh open.

Llovesi arched her back and kicked upwards, sending him falling back. She gripped her spear with hands in spasm and thrust it at him. But he moved too quickly, darting this way and that, turning her flesh to rags. He was going to kill her. His reflexes were like lightning and his laughter echoed off the cave walls.

The walls. Llovesi remembered how thin and unstable they felt. She raised her spear, but instead of attacking the Ash Vampire again, pounded frantically against the ceiling between them.

"What are you doing?" the Dagoth laughed, and started towards her, the dagger raised high. Then he stopped. There was a rumbling and a splintering noise, and then suddenly the bone-coloured ceiling gave way.

Llovesi threw herself backwards, landing with a painful crash and coughing from all the foul smelling dust.

A pile of rocks and filth obstructed the passageway. The Dagoth's long muscled arm protruded from the pile, still clutching the dagger. It twitched vainly a few times, then lay still.

Llovesi picked herself up carefully, and sent a few feeble healing sparks up and down her body. The room stopped swimming in front of her eyes. She approached the dagger. It looked almost as though it had been carved from a fang. Knowing that this was probably the kind of artefact Vivec intended for her to collect, she slipped it through her belt. Maybe it would serve her better than its previous owner. Then she turned on her heel and left his corpse buried beneath rock and splintered bone.

* * *

They slept that night in the Ald Skar Inn. There had been an emotional reunion between Hannat and his father, who'd turned to her with tears in his eyes and pushed the ring from his finger and the sword from his hip into her hands.

Llovesi couldn't sleep comfortably, though; even in the knowledge that they'd saved a life that the Sixth House could have stolen. She was weary, she ached, and the horrors of the day coursed through her mind. Tomorrow they would return to Ghostgate, to weeks, maybe even months more of this.

She closed her eyes even more firmly and turned over again, willing sleep to take her.

The smoke rose thick and black up the Foyada Mamaea, crowned by swirling bits of ash. Llovesi fought through it, choking, the heat of the fire in the distance singing her hair and burning her throat.

Fort Moonmoth was on fire.

In the swirling fumes, black shapes darted this way and that, stretching long claws out. Bulbous shapes and twisting tentacles moved in the gloom. All the while, screams came from the fort.

Legionnaires, their armour in shreds, their bodies twisted with Corprus and their flesh singed from their skin, ran from the fort towards the Odai.

And in the distance, an army was moving towards Balmora.

The voice rang out, deep and clear over the hills and the screams.

"You take one of mine, Nerevar, I'll take one of yours. You bring this war against me, and I am forced to react. Look upon your work. Look upon what you bring to Resdayn."

* * *

**A/N: Dun, dun dun! Bit of a later update today, but it's for a good reason I promise. I've been reading and reviewing Ozymandeos's _The Darkened Child_. You should definitely check it out if you like Skyrim's Dark Brotherhood, vampire and Morrowind nostalgia!**


	45. Sunder and Keening

**A/N: Hey there, Claytone! You win the Reviewer's Award(tm) for making me spit out my cuppa - but in a good way! I'm very flattered :p And wow guys, I can't believe we're nearing the end. Massive thanks to everyone who's still reading along!**

* * *

_**Chapter 44: Sunder and Keening**_

_Leap from bed. Pull on boots. Sprint up the stairs, pushing past surprised patrons. Throw open the door and race across the hard ground. Ignore the fact that it's cold and I'm still in my night clothes and everyone is staring at me, because this cannot be happening_...

Llovesi's thoughts were as cold and mechanical as the blood running through her veins as she raced past the few townsfolk and patrolling guards who were up at this early hour. She didn't stop running until she reached the silt strider platform and then threw herself up it, almost on all fours.

Navam Veran watched her with concern.

"I'm not due to leave for another half an hour, Nerevarine, and if you don't mind me saying, you don't seem prepared to travel."

"Bal... Balmora," Llovesi panted. "What... why... how?"

Navam probably couldn't have looked more worried if he'd tried.

"What are you talking about? Are you feeling quite all right? I understand... the pressure..."

"Balmora has been attacked... hasn't it? I-"

"Balmora was perfectly fine when I left it late last night. In any case, Selvil will be along on his route soon enough. Are you sure you don't want to wait inside?"

Llovesi stood obstinately on the platform, teeth chattering and heart pounding, waiting out the excruciating minutes until the arrival of the silt strider from Balmora. A few travellers gave her odd looks as Navam helped them load their belongings into his silt strider.

Finally, he steered the silt strider away from the platform, giving her a pitying look. The arriving silt strider was visible on the horizon. Llovesi waited, ignoring the fact that guards seemed to be drawing close to the foot of the platform.

Her fear didn't slip away until Selvil confirmed that both Balmora and Moonmoth were completely unharmed, and was she feeling okay, if she didn't mind his asking?

Then shame slipped in. Shame, and anger. She pushed her way past guards and questions, striding back to the Inn.

_So, this was how he wanted to play it. What was it? A warning? No. A test. Well, he didn't know just who he was testing. And the next time he pushed her, she'd push back._

* * *

But, frustratingly, there was no immediate action in the near future. Llovesi and Julan needed time to recuperate from Mamaea, and to train and stockpile resources.

They started expeditions into Red Mountain again, accompanied by groups of Buoyant Armigers or Ordinators, but Galdal hadn't been joking when she'd talked about the roughness of the terrain. The ash blew so thick that long periods of exposure were almost unbearable. Sight and hearing were reduced to a state of near-blindness and deafness, such was the density of the swirling, howling, red clouds. Add to this near constant attacks from Blighted cliff racers, who had a nasty tendency to form flocks, and the other infected creatures roaming the mountain, and progress was slow. Then there was the Blight itself, carried in the ash that spewed from the central crater. Move often than not, someone in their party would collapse from exhaustion for it to be revealed they'd been struck down with a virulent and accelerated case of the disease.

When they weren't scouting, they were training, or studying old maps and intelligence covering the citadels. The crater citadels held the remnants of the Dwemer operations on Red Mountain, namely, Kagrenac's studies, libraries and workshops that were used in the construction of the first Numidium, the giant golem created by Kagnerac and later used by Tiber Septim to conquer Tamriel and by the Agent, creating the Warp in the West. Now they served another master, and the second Numidium, his Akulakhan. It was with this giant golem that Dagoth Ur hoped to rule Tamriel, and Llovesi prayed nightly that he was nowhere near finishing it, for how could she hope to face them both?

Finally, near the end of Sun's Dawn, they captured citadel Endusal, defeating Dagoth Endus and claiming the treasures he held. As the closest citadel with a direct path to Ghostgate, it was an important strategic point, so they spent some time improving defences and relocating a few forces to hold it.

A week later, they fought their way north and east to citadel Tureynulal to defeat Dagoth Tureynul. He fought harder and longer than Endus had, and his citadel was more populated with cultists and Daedra, but in the end he too fell, although he took both Buoyant Armigers and Ordinators with him.

Focus was Llovesi's entire being. When she slept, she wrestled with whispered dreams, holding steadfast onto one thought: _I am a ruthless killer. I seek only advancement in House Dagoth. I am a ruthless killer. I seek only advancement in House Dagoth. I am_...

In a way, it was so easy to hold onto these thoughts, to make them her purpose and identity. Hadn't she done the same thing once before, for eight years in a prison cell? It was as if her whole life had been leading to this destiny.

Dagoth Ur was drawing back from her; the dreams were becoming less pervasive. She knew why. He was preparing for her, waiting for her. Because now she was four Ash Vampires down, and the next step was to claim the hammer and the dagger: the artefacts Sunder and Keening.

* * *

Llovesi woke early one cold morning of First Seed. Today was the day. The constant ash storms were battering the walls of Endusal, where they'd made a second base camp, and wind was whistling round the metal hallways. A few weeks ago it had been hard to hold a conversation in certain parts of the fortress, let alone sleep, but they were all used to it now.

She dressed silently, strapping on her armour, filling her pack with scrolls and potions, strapping the fang dagger to her hip and grabbing her halberd and spear from their resting place on the wall.

Wrapping herself in protective garments, she cast an eye around the small room they'd turned into their sleeping quarters. Everyone was still fast asleep. Julan, and the few Dunmer from Ghostgate that held this ruin and scouted with them. Galdal Omayn stayed at Ghostgate, as had the head Ordinator, Ralyn Othraval, but Gamin Haynes, the Buoyant Armiger who had welcomed them to Ghostgate, was with them, as were the Ordinators Ferone Veran and Selmen Relas. Others were holding Tureynulal, or had been lost in the campaigns.

Llovesi turned to go, when a voice whispered behind her:

"Where do you think you're going?"

She turned back, wincing internally.

"Julan, I'm going to get Sunder and Keening," she whispered back, casting an anxious eye over the other sleeping figures in the room.

"And you thought you were going to alone?"

She crouched beside him.

"It's probably going to be very dangerous. And I think it's better if I start working alone more. It will make my 'attempt' to rise in House Dagoth seem more real."

"Llovesi," Julan whispered firmly, "if you think for a moment I'm letting you go up this mountain alone, you've got another think coming. We're in this together, remember? You've been so focused and withdrawn lately, and I understand that, but I've been with you from the start, and I'm not leaving you now. Especially not if it's dangerous."

Llovesi contrived to look annoyed, but secretly she was glad. She had been dreading the thought of setting out alone.

"Okay," she said. "Get ready quickly, and try not to wake the others. I'll wait near the entrance. You and me."

* * *

Odrosal was deceptively close to Endusal, just east across the hills. But in reality, the many winding foyadas were the only way to reach it and battling against the strong winds and ash, and the seemingly never-ending flocks of cliff racers, vastly increased their journey time.

Finally, they reached Odrosal, a ruin much like the others, clinging to the mountainside and worn away by ash. They didn't see any ash creatures as they approached cautiously, so they slipped straight inside.

"This is where they're holding Keening, right?" Julan whispered.

"According to Vivec."

Julan shook his head. "I don't like this. It's far too quiet in here. You'd think it would be defended."

The absence of ash creatures certainly was strange, especially after the battles they'd faced in the other fortresses. They passed into a room via some locked doors that presented no barrier for Julan. The only life was the flies buzzing around a dead Dreamer.

"So they're killing each other now? Makes it easier for us," Julan remarked.

Llovesi felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. This had to be a trap.

"There's a trapdoor there," she said, gesturing with her spear at the rusted ladder leading to the circular cover on the ceiling.

She pushed it open then jumped back down the ladder, weapons raised. But the tower appeared to be empty.

"I've got your back," Julan said.

She strapped both spear and halberd to her back and placed her dagger between her teeth as she climbed. When she climbed into the tower and saw what was there, her mouth opened so wide that the dagger clattered harmlessly to the floor.

"What's up there?" Julan called.

"I... I think it's Keening."

The tower was small, and sparse, the Sixth House shrine directly in front of her the only thing in the room. And plunged blade first into the ash in the shrine was a small dagger.

Its handle was the same brassy metal as Dwemer weapons and armour, decorated with a small crescent moon and studs. Encased by the handle, was a blade of luminescent blue crystal, glowing softly in contrast to the red light emitted by the plinths either side of the shrine.

"By the thousand-and-one spidery offspring of Black Hands Mephala the webspinner!" Julan exclaimed all in one breath, climbing out of the trapdoor behind her.

As if in a dream, Llovesi flexed the fingers of Wraithguard on her right hand, and bent over the artefact, pulling it gently from the shrine. It came free with almost no resistance, the ash slipping away from the blade. Her hand shook violently as its enchantment was released by the contact, but Wraithguard was steadfast.

She held it up in wonder.

"I don't believe it."

"Me neither," Julan replied. "Who in their right mind would leave an artefact like Keening just sitting in this tower? Oh wait, these people _aren't_ in their right minds," he added, shaking his head.

Llovesi descended the ladder and, grimacing, ripped apart the shirt the decomposing Dreamer was wearing. She wrapped Keening in it almost tenderly and placed the precious dagger in her pack.

"That will have to do until Dronos Llervu can make a sheath for it." The smith in the Tower of Dusk had done some incredible work on her glass armour; she was sure he would be up to the challenge.

"Now, we've got a Dagoth to deal with."

* * *

They continued through the ruin, climbing through the many corridors. Llovesi was almost relieved when they finally ran into a Golden Saint, just because it relieved some of the tension at finding the ruin so empty. The summon was powerful, although no match for Llovesi and Julan together.

Dagoth Odros was at the very top. He sat cross-legged, his eyes closed, as if he was meditating, but his voice started to echo around the ruin before they even saw him.

"Well, Llovesi. Have you come to serve? Or to challenge my station? Or to try and win Keening? It is well hidden, I warn you."

"Not as well-hidden as you think," Llovesi snapped back as he came into view. "I already have Keening. I am here to challenge your station."

The Dagoth's blood-red eyes snapped open, and he rose to his full, impressive height, dark dreadlocks falling about his muscled shoulders.

"You think to climb higher in Brother Dagoth's eyes by defeating me? Well, then, you might rise at that. None of us Heartwights can die. The power of the Heart will bring us back in time. But, yes, you might win Lord Dagoth's favour by defeating his lieutenants. No hard feelings, Llovesi. I lose, I lose my rank. You lose, you lose all. You're playing for high stakes. Are you sure you want to play? Surely there is no dishonour for a mortal to serve a God?"

"Dagoth Ur is no God of mine. I am not content to simply serve."

Dagoth Odros shrugged, and paced in front of her, his bare feet falling heavy on the metal.

"Lord Dagoth makes you a generous offer, Llovesi. Serve him, and you can share the divine, eternal power of Lorkhan's heart. So far, all your struggles, your battling, your destructiveness..." he hissed over the word, losing his composure for a moment. Then he swallowed and smiled at her, baring pointed fangs.

"All these things might be understood as improving your bargaining position. Come now, we hold you no bitterness. You cannot truly harm us. We can afford to forgive."

"That might be, but I cannot." She took her halberd and spear in each hand.

Dagoth Odros sighed. "So be it," he said softly.

He flicked his wrists, summoning handfuls of magicka, which he hurled at Llovesi. She dodged, but one of the spells hit Julan. He dropped to his knees, panting.

"It's some sort of fatigue-draining spell," he shouted in a strained voice. "Don't let him touch you!"

Llovesi held the Dagoth at a distance with her halberd and spear, tripping him and beating him down. He was far less agile than the Dagoth in Mamaea; his main skill seemed to be his magical ability, but Llovesi either dodged his spells or absorbed them.

Suddenly, while he was distracted with Llovesi, an arrow found his throat. Julan had re-joined the battle. Dagoth Odros in turn dropped to his knees, clutching his throat. He wrenched the arrow free, and almost immediately choked on the blood that spurted from his throat. He slumped to the ground, dead.

"Let's get back to Endusal," Llovesi said, unable to tear her eyes from his prone figure. "They're bound to be wondering where we've gone, and we need to prepare to attack Vemynal. It won't be as easy as this, I'm sure."

* * *

To her surprise, Haynes, Veran and Relas were supportive of her decision to continue questing alone with Julan. They seemed to think it fitting for the prophecies to conclude in such a manner. So, a few days later after rest, recuperation and training, Llovesi and Julan set out north for Vemynal, alone.

This citadel was the furthest from the crater of Red Mountain, and thus took them nearly half a day of hard travelling to reach. Llovesi couldn't help but worry about how Dagoth Ur would have had time to increase the defences in this citadel. She was almost certain finding Keening had been intended to lure her into a false sense of security.

This was confirmed from the very moment they entered the ruin.

A bonewalker came staggering towards them at an alarming speed, its hulking mass of flesh and bone filling the narrow corridor. Julan summoned a skeleton to distract it, but the monster simply threw it against the wall, where it clattered into a pile of bones before vanishing. Llovesi backpedalled to avoid its powerful spells, and pulled a scroll of Hellfire from her pack, reducing the creature to a charred mess.

They stepped over it and continued, but it seemed everywhere they turned Vemynal was filled with creatures: lesser Dagoths and powerful Daedra that had no doubt been summoned by Dagoth Vemyn himself. Fighting in the narrow corridor was not easy; there was little space for Llovesi to use her spears, and large destructive spells were dangerous for everyone. Luckily, the dagger she had taken from the Dagoth in Mamaea was more than proving its worth.

Deeper into the citadel, after battling with an Ascended Sleeper and a Dremora Lord in quick succession, they found themselves entering a large room with two levels. They were on the top level, looking down. Sixth House banners hung still and straight, floating down over the edge. A large shrine filled the room below.

"I don't see Sunder anywhere," Llovesi said, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.

Julan shuddered suddenly. "There's something powerful here nevertheless. Be ready."

A loud, wheezing laugh echoed around the room suddenly, making them both flinch and raise their weapons. It sounded as if the mountain itself had split open to mock them.

Grabbing onto a banner, Llovesi abseiled down into the lower pit.

"Where are you?" she called.

"What?" The voice called back, from behind her this time. She wheeled round, but there was nothing there. Julan was next to hear, his eyes flitting about the room, an arrow tensed in his bow.

"You want to talk?" _To their left._

"You want to surrender?" _To their right._

"You want to boast?" _It was as if he was whispering directly into her ear._

"Or perhaps you want to talk to me _to death_?"

The hideous laugh echoed off the walls again, and there he was, walking casually out from behind a banner opposite them.

Dagoth Vemyn leant casually against a metal pillar and examined his claws, as he hadn't a care in the world. Llovesi noticed a large, metal wrought hammer strapped to his hip, knocking against his bony thigh.

_Sunder_.

"I'm one of the oldest things to have a ever slipped from a womb, Llovesi, but I've never heard of anyone _talked_ to death," he laughed his dry, cracking laugh, and licked his lips. "Of course, there's always a first time. And I was brought up properly. I know it's not polite to interrupt. So you just go ahead. Talk all you want. And when you're done, go home. Or take your best shot. It's all the same to me."

He finished examining his hands and shot her a smirk.

"I'm done talking," Llovesi said. "I'm here for Sunder."

"Well then, come and get it. You'll gave to prise it from my lifeless hands."

Suddenly the large hammer was in his hand and he was sprinting across the ash pit towards here. She ducked, barely in time, and Sunder swung into the metal where her head had been, sending a furious clang echoing around the room.

The Dagoth snarled in frustration, and aimed for her on the floor. She rolled, left and right, avoiding his blows, trying to pick herself up.

"No more talking, but still playing games, Llovesi!" Suddenly he grunted in pain. One of Julan's arrows was sticking from his calf. He turned and rounded on Julan instead. Llovesi seized her chance, and jumped onto his back, stabbing him with her dagger.

He howled, and raked at her with his long claws, but she held on. She'd never been so close to an Ash Vampire before. His skin was dry and crumbling, he smelt of cinders, of flames long extinguished. She choked, and he reached round and pulled her off of his back.

Now she was choking for real, her toes barely scraping the floor as he held her by the neck and considered her.

"So, here is the hour of your defeat. I'm sure Brother Dagoth will be most delighted when I bring him the news. But perhaps a little disappointed too. You have failed in his expectations."

Llovesi swung her dagger as hard as she could. To her surprise, it met flesh, then bone, then thin air again. Dagoth Vemyn looked on in surprise as the hand that had been holding her throat fell uselessly to the ground, as Llovesi landed lightly on her toes. The stump was spewing blood and ash in equal measure as he raised it to his face, still seeming confused. The light in his eyes was fading.

Sunder fell through the air as he hit the ground, and Llovesi's right hand shot out and grabbed it. A shockwave rippled from her fingertips to her elbow. Dagoth Vemyn fell to the floor.

Silence reigned in Vemynal.

Llovesi looked at the artefact in her hand. It seemed somehow so ordinary, now that she was holding it, just a burnished metal hammer. But it meant so much more.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Julan was there, his eyes wide in wonder.

"You have all the tools now. Does that mean... you're ready for... you know, _him_?"

Llovesi let her thoughts drift back over the past few months. All the questing, proving her worth, becoming a champion for the people. The past few weeks, eliminating Dagoth Ur's ties to power, learning his defences, becoming strong enough to face him. And all of the destruction, the despair, and the death.

Now she had Kagrenac's tools, and there was only one thing left to do. Make the plan a reality. For Julan, for herself, and for all the people of Morrowind whom she'd sworn to protect.

"Yes," she said, straightening up and clenching Sunder tight in her fist. "I'm ready for him."


	46. Endgame

**A/N: Thanks to OnnaMusha for your latest review and suggestion, and thanks to acinus for favouriting. WIthout further ado, here's my latest chapter!**

* * *

_**Chapter 45: Endgame**_

"Hello. They call me Wulf. What brings you to Ghostgate?"

Llovesi looked up from the plans that had been blurring beneath her eyes.

An old man dressed in a battered Legion cuirass was standing in front of her. Well, _old _was the first thought to run through her mind but, despite the snowy hair tumbling about his shoulders, his face was strangely smooth and wrinkle free. He gestured at the seat opposite her.

Llovesi glanced at the bar, where Julan was getting drinks. He didn't seem to have noticed the man. Neither had anyone else for that matter. And Llovesi had never seen him before in her time at Ghostgate. Maybe he was new. He seemed harmless enough. It was stranger that _he_ didn't seem to recognise _her_.

"Sure, take a seat. My name is Llovesi..."

She paused, but no look of recognition dashed across his face. The lack of reaction was almost reassuring.

"I'm here because I'm the prophesised Nerevarine, actually. I'm going to Dagoth Ur in the morning, to defeat the Devil."

At this Wulf gave an excited start and rapped his knuckles on the table.

"What a piece of luck! Look. I'm an old Legion veteran, as old as the poor old Emperor, bless his soul. I'm too old for campaigning. I came this far to look at hell. But I can't go any farther than this. I'd take it kindly if you'd carry this old lucky coin with you when you go to Dagoth Ur."

He reached into a pocket in his pants and pulled out a coin. It looked like a standard septim, with the symbol of Akatosh, but incredibly tarnished and quite old looking. She turned it over so that the imperious profile of Tiber Septim, of Talos, was revealed.

Wulf smiled ruefully. "Sort of a token of the tough young hero I used to be. Would you do that for an old man?"

"Sure, I'll take your coin with me," Llovesi said.

He pushed it towards her. "Thank you. I've had it with me a long time, and it's always brought me luck. But I have no more use for it, and I'd like to pass it on to somebody younger. Somebody going places I can't go anymore. Your generation's a shaper of history... an engine of destiny. Maybe it's time for a change.

"The Emperor is getting old. Don't know how much longer he'll hang on. So is the whole Empire, for that matter. Getting old, that is. The Emperor and the legions have held the Empire together for hundreds of years. It's been a good thing, by and large. But it's time for something young and new. No idea what. Because I'm old. Old dog doesn't get new ideas. But maybe young folks like you should try some new ideas. I don't know. Could be messy. But change is never pretty.

"Anyway, that coin will bring you luck on the mountain. I promise. 'For Emperor and Empire,' as we say in the legions. Go with Kynareth."

He stood up as abruptly as he had introduced himself and walked away, leaving Llovesi turning the coin over in her hand and pondering on his strange speech.

Julan returned with the matzes.

"Here," he said, passing her one. "How's the plan coming alo... where did you get that coin?"

"Oh, from that old man-" Llovesi gestured, but Wulf was gone. He must have had already left the room.

"From an old man called Wulf. A legionnaire. He asked me to take it with me. For luck." She turned the coin over a few more times in her hand pensively. "You didn't see him?"

"Nope," Julan shrugged, taking a long gulp of his ale. "Anyway, the plan...?"

"Oh, yeah..." Llovesi turned distractedly back to the papers, annotated with her own notes, spreading them out across the table.

"So, we've eliminated all of Dagoth Ur's defences save what we'll find in his citadel. We know he can't call on his Ash Vampire brothers for help now. But we don't know if he's increased attacks on the cities, or if the Sleepers and Dreamers have all arisen to come to the mountain. But I think if they had, he'd have shown me."

She tapped her forehead, indicting the dreams that had come to be her own private link with Dagoth Ur's mad ambitions.

"No, I think he'll be worried, because I haven't fully revealed my intentions yet. Am I a pawn of the Emperor, or of the Tribunal, or of Azura? He doesn't know, and his plan was originally long-term. My arrival has forced him to speed events up, but I think now he's concentrating on building Akulakhan, not on attacking us. And maybe he's curious about me.

"So I'm going to use that to get to the Heart Chamber. Maybe I can pretend to want to join him, to get close enough to destroy Lorkhan's heart, then to finish him off."

She drained her mug of ale.

"And you know what? I think I am ready. But... you don't have to come you know. It's going to be dangerous, more dangerous than anything else we've done. You have people who are depending on you."

She glanced down at the table, avoiding his eyes, but Julan lifted her chin gently.

"Yes, and I hope you'll do what you can for them, should I not return with you. But dying in Red Mountain would bring my people honour. I'm not afraid of dying."

"But you don't have to die! You don't even have to come!"

"I know that," he said softly, "but I'm going to come. Because I want to. Because this was my mission once, and I want to see how it ends. But, why are you going?"

Llovesi's jaw dropped open slightly. "Because the prophec..." But then she stopped herself. That wasn't what he meant. Hadn't she been telling herself all along that she was nobody's pawn? Not the Emperor's, not the Blades', not the Tribunal's, not even Azura's. All along, all she'd wanted to do was help. And it wasn't who she was that was important.

It was what she did.

"Because Dagoth Ur must be stopped," she said, clenching Wraithguard into a fist.

Julan sighed. "You're right of course. But remember, history can be ungrateful. Deeds are remembered, not who did them. Today, no one remembers the Hero of Daggerfall's name. They just call him the 'Agent'. And the one who saved the Emperor's life, all those years ago? The 'Eternal Champion'. Do you really want to go down as the 'Nerevarine'? You have to want this for yourself, and for Morrowind. Not for glory, or for heroism. You have to believe you're doing the right thing. You have to be sure about it. If you're not, you'll fail."

He took a long drink.

"There have been times when I've wondered if I was doing the right thing. Dagoth Ur plans to drive the Empire from Morrowind. That's part of what the Incarnate is meant to do as well. Sometimes I wondered if the prophecies really meant that the Incarnate would join with Dagoth Ur, to free Morrowind. And when we were on the mountain, that very first time, I had a... a sort of dream. A dream of Morrowind under the Sixth House."

He shook his head a little, as if clearing water from his ears.

"It was wonderful. The false gods and the Empire were destroyed, and the Dunmer were free. Everything was perfect, but, even then, I could tell there was something wrong with the image, a sickness about it all. I knew it wouldn't really be like that. But I was still so blind. I hated the Empire, hated the Tribunal, and sometimes I thought that anything would be better. Even Dagoth Ur.

"Now, I've seen enough of the Sixth House to know it isn't true. This land will become a place of misery, suffering, and death if he isn't stopped. I may not like the Emperor, or the Tribunal but they're not evil. Dagoth Ur is evil. I know destroying him is the right thing to do."

He too drained his mug. Llovesi stood up.

"Then let's go to bed," she said. "In the morning, we finish this."

* * *

So it came to be that on the morning of the 20th First Seed, Llovesi and Julan were standing on the lip of Red Mountain crater, looking upon hell.

The winds were relentless and intense; the crater was spewing thick clouds of red ash that swirled in spirals before rising out and flying down the mountain, carried by the tempest.

Llovesi strained against the vicious conditions, peering down into the crater. She could make out many Dwemer towers, clutching grimly onto the sides of the crater and, far below, the dim glow of lava.

There was a ledge far below so, bracing herself, she skidded down the side into the crater, landing on firm, warm rock.

The heat was nearly overpowering down here; her face felt tight and hot. The winds, however, were quieter. She watched them rise up, carrying the heat and the Blight out over the land as Julan slid down to land beside her.

They held each other for a long moment. Then Julan spoke:

"Come on now. This is a job like any other. We complete it, we go home."

Llovesi nodded, and they walked over to the central tower. The entrance was concealed behind a large sphere, but Llovesi had been in enough Dwemer ruins now to guess what to do. Sure enough, when she twisted a nearby crank, the sphere split open and the path into Dagoth Ur's Citadel was revealed.

"Careful," Llovesi muttered, as they crossed the threshold. "We still have his last lieutenant to face."

But no sooner than her foot had touched the first step of the stairwell inside, than a deep, and incongruously polite, baritone voice echoed off the walls:

"_Come, Nerevar. Friend or traitor, come. Come and look upon the heart, and Akulakhan. And bring Wraithguard, I have need of it."_

"Why have you stopped?" Julan asked urgently, and Llovesi shook herself.

"You didn't hear that?" she asked.

"No. Hear what?"

"I-nevermind. Let's go."

Steadying herself, they finished descending the stairs, killing a victim of Corprus that was beating pitifully against the walls.

Llovesi pushed open the metal door in front of them, and the rusty hinges snapped. Everything in here seemed more precarious, older, as if they were taking a step back through history.

The voice rang out again.

"_Come to the Heart Chamber. I wait for you there, where we last met, countless ages ago_."

The steam pipes in front of her seemed to vibrate with the force of his voice.

Julan tapped her shoulder.

"What is it?"

"You're sure you didn't hear anything? Someone speaking?"

"No, I didn't hear anyone speaking. Why? Did... did you?"

"Yes. It must be him. He's sounding me out. Testing-"

But there was no time for her to finish her sentence. An Ash Slave threw a bolt of lightning across the room at them, and the crackle of energy gave them mere seconds to dodge. They rounded on it but, as it fell, an Ascended Sleeper rose up the steps towards them, its filthy, ornate robe billowing out and filling the narrow metal corridor.

Llovesi drove her spear straight into its skull; it let out an alien moan and crumbled, falling back down the stairs.

"_Come to me through fire and war. I welcome you_."

"He doesn't sound like I expected him too," she muttered, more to herself than anything. "All this time... what has he become?"

_Through fire and war... what does he know about me?_

"_Welcome Moon-and-Star. I have prepared a place for you_."

_He thinks I'm him. Nerevar._

"Don't listen to him, Llovesi!"

Llovesi jumped even more when Julan spoke next to her. Then she realised that he hadn't heard Dagoth Ur's words; it was that every time _she_ heard them, she tensed up completely. Julan must be able to tell simply by watching her. It was his voice, it filled the ruin, shook the old, weathered walls. How could it just be in her head?

Julan's voice seemed less real in comparison.

They reached three doors, the one on the right led onwards. Three more doors, right again, fighting their way onwards.

"_Come. Bring Wraithguard to the Heart Chamber. Together let us free the cursed false gods_."

Onwards they went, fighting the heat, the strange noises and, of course, the creatures. Llovesi eyes were wide, her breathing heavy and haggard; sweat ran from beneath her helm in thick drops.

Wraithguard felt strangely heavy on her hand, Sunder and Keening seemed to be vibrating at her hips.

They had to be getting close.

"_Welcome, Nerevar. Together we shall speak for the Law and the Land, and drive the mongrel dogs of the Empire from Morrowind_."

"Is he still talking to you?" Julan asked, but Llovesi barely heard him. "Tell him from me that we're coming for him, and he's going down!"

"I don't think it's a two-way link," Llovesi said, but she tried it anyway. _We're coming for you_. The voice was silent, but the thought made Llovesi feel better. She dispatched an Ash Ghoul with renewed confidence.

Then she saw it.

Up ahead, the metal wall had been torn away to expose the rock of the mountain, and an old wooden door fitted clumsily in a gap. But that wasn't what drew her attention. The Ash Vampire guarding the way onwards was.

She and Julan ducked round the corner of the room they were in, watching the Dagoth pace, and whispered tactics to each other.

"_Is this how you honour the Sixth House and Tribe Unmourned? Come to me openly, and not through stealth_."

_He knows_.

But they had more pressing problems. The Dagoth raised his bearded face to the ceiling and howled, then rounded on them with alarming speed. No doubt he shared the psychic link with Dagoth Ur.

He clawed at the wall, and she ducked. The metal sparked, and three long gashes appeared where her head had been.

Julan was already backing up. An arrow found its place in the Dagoth's chest, another in its throat, but he merely roared and snapped them off. It seemed Dagoth Ur had chosen his strongest lieutenant to guard his own citadel.

Llovesi used one of her scrolls of Summon Golden Saint to bring a distraction. The Dagoth fought hard, pushing her back towards the lava vats, where the heat seared her skin from a distance.

Remember another impossibly powerful enemy she and Julan had fought near lava, Llovesi changed tactics suddenly. She drove her spear at the Dagoth's feet and legs, tripping him. He steadied himself against the nearest vat and turned to attack again, but Llovesi was faster, and she toppled him into the vat. He howled and struggled, but in vain, and then he sunk beneath the surface.

Llovesi turned to Julan, and saw that his face was set.

"This is it," she said, and although her voice was cold and mechanical, it didn't tremble.

They went through the door.

"_Welcome Moon-and-Star, to this place, where destiny is made_."

The chamber was large, yet dim: let only by a few braziers and the red glow that emanated from a large Sixth House shrine. And descending the steps of the shrine, slowly and regally, each step falling heavily on the rocky ground, was Dagoth Ur.

"That's Dagoth Ur?" Julan whispered. "I expected him to be... taller."

Llovesi hadn't. As the figure approached, she realised he was everything she had seen in her dreams, and more.

Taller than his Ash Vampires, with powerful shoulders, lean and muscled limbs, his skin was so grey that he could be made of ash himself. She could tell all this because he was nearly naked before her, clothed only in a long red loincloth that trailed against the ground as he approached with a graceful gait.

The Sharmat in his temple.

And of course, the mask. A fixed golden face, with three eyes and a neat beard. It was circular: it mimicked the shape of the sun, with a headband of sunrays, but the three eye-holes were dark.

She knew then that she did not want to see what lay behind the mask.

Long dark hair fanned out behind the mask, hanging in thick strands down to his hips. He stopped in front of her, the golden face gazing impassively down, and laced his long arms together across his chest.

"_It began here. It will end here. Now that you have come to me here, there can be but one result. Many times I have considered offering to share this place with you. I considered offering to accept your oath of service. You might try to buy my trust by giving me Wraithguard, Keening, and Sunder. I thought we might once again be friends... comrades... brothers in arms._

"_But I have won this place and power by right of conquest. By right of daring and enterprise. I will not risk it to cunning and deceit. I offer you no deals. If you are my enemy, I cannot trust you. And even if you are not my enemy, I cannot let you live._

"_It will all be decided here. I believe I will prevail. But I cannot be sure, and I am vain enough that, should I fall, I would wish to be remembered in my own words. So, if you have final questions you would ask, ask them now. I have final questions I would ask you, if you would answer."_

So her ruse of joining House Dagoth had failed. Llovesi clenched her fist around Keening's hilt. That didn't mean she had to stand here exchanging... pleasantries. It was strange. He spoke like a gentleman and scholar, but she knew she shouldn't be taken in. It was all honeyed lies.

Julan hovered uneasily behind her. Dagoth Ur paid him no more attention that one would a hovering gnat. Instead, he stood patiently in front of her. Awaiting her response.

"I have no questions for you," she replied through clenched teeth.

"_Very well. Then I would ask you: if I had offered to let you join me, would you have surrendered Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to me to seal your oath?"_

Llovesi was taken aback by the question. It was as if he had second-guessed her intention all along.

"No, I would have never given you the tools," she replied slowly.

Dagoth Ur tapped the chin of his mask.

"_An interesting response. You might have been willing to join me, but never to surrender the tools. Very interesting. I'm glad I didn't try to bargain with you. My second question is: if you win, what do you plan to do with the power from the Heart? Will you make yourself a god, and establish a thearchy? Or will you complete Akulakhan, and dispute control of Tamriel with the Septims? Or will you share the Heart with your followers, as I have, and breed a new race of divine immortals?"_

"I have my own plan for the heart. I'll not share it with you."

She hadn't been expecting this... interrogation. It was difficult to respond under such pressure. Only her instinctive loathing for him pushed her on.

"_Well. Perhaps there may be surprises in store for me yet. Or perhaps you obscure your plans on principle. Or perhaps you are an instinctive bluffer. No matter._

"_My final question is: Are you really Nerevar reborn?"_

This one she could do.

She pointed her spear at his heart.

"People have called me many things. Nerevar, Nerevarine, Hortator... and n'wah, outlander, s'wit... My name is Llovesi," she snarled. "But even that doesn't matter. It's what I'm here to do that matters. I'm here on my own terms: to end you, and your blight on all of Vvardenfell."

Dagoth Ur threw back his head and laughed, his shoulders shaking with the effort.

Then he attacked.

His first blow knocked her clean off her feet, and she landed, winded. Julan was already fitting a bow to his arrow, but before he could fire, Dagoth Ur was upon her. Too stunned to move, she raised her spear.

Dagoth Ur, fell on it, and it penetrated his bowels, punching through skin, flesh and muscle.

He fell gracefully backwards, then disappeared.

Llovesi's spear clattered to the ground. Julan's arrow sailed through thin air.

Julan ran over and helped her to her feet.

"Is it just me, or was that a little too easy?" he asked. "Something's not right here. Where did Dagoth Ur go?"

"To the Heart Chamber. This is just his antechamber. We're about to see where he holds court."

As she spoke, a section of rock shifted in the wall in front of them, and a carved stone door was revealed.

She stepped forward to examine the design. A large golem, Dwemer in design. The Numidium.

"What was he saying to you? I could hear your responses, but not his words."

"You mean that was all in my head..." Her hand dropped from the door, where she had been tracing the image carved there. "It doesn't matter what he was saying. It was all lies and bluffing. In there, actions will matter. Are you ready?"

"I am." He fitted a new arrow to his bow.

Llovesi pushed hard with her shoulder, and the door swung inwards.

Her first impression was that it was large. The cavern, that was. Although, directly in the middle, rising from the pit, was the largest statue she had ever seen. A Dwemer head and shoulders, a great metal beard, three eyes and a sunray headdress. _Made in his image_.

Wooden platforms and rope bridges surrounded the construct; ash creatures were scurrying about on these, bringing construction materials. Metal. Bone. Flesh. They covered the construct like locusts. They circled the cavern, bowing to their lord and master.

The stench of Corprus and lava burned her nostrils. The Blight howled in her ears.

And Dagoth Ur was there, standing taller than before. He summoned a shield about himself, a shield that burned Julan's arrows on impact.

"_What a fool you are_," he called, all trace of politeness gone, his voice full of pitying contempt.

He threw a powerful fireball at them, and Llovesi dove at Julan, knocking them both to the ground and out of harm's way.

"_I'm a god. How can you kill a god?"_

Where was the Heart?

"_What a grand and intoxicating innocence!"_

She had to get to the Heart.

"_How could you be so naïve? There is no escape."_

_Think_. _I can see the head and shoulders. So the Heart_ is...She knew where she had to go.

"_No Recall or Intervention can work in this place. Come. Lay down your weapons. It is not too late for my mercy."_

She ran at him, and Dagoth Ur, surprised, ducked out the way. She sailed over the edge and landed heavily on one of the wooden drawbridges. It splintered beneath her, but held steady.

"_What are you doing?"_

She pulled herself to her feet, gritting her teeth against the pain.

Before her, a great pair of ribs, constructed from the same pale rock as Mamaea. Here there was no pretending. It was bone.

And between the ribs, pulsating and glowing: the Heart of Lorkhan. She felt the heat of the lava below as she ran towards it, pushing ash creatures out of her way, drawing Sunder with Wraithguard.

She swung the hammer into the soft flesh, and it hardened at the blow, became tight as a drum, and a pure musical tone echoed around the cave.

The ash creatures stopped what they were doing in one motion to stare at her with their empty faces.

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING_!"

Dagoth Ur was there, sprinting across the bridge towards her, throwing ash creatures into the lava to reach her.

She hastily replaced Sunder at her belt and drew Keening.

"_Sleepers Awake!"_

_And in the towns and cities across Vvardenfell, the Sleepers awoke. And they looked towards the Mountain._

She stabbed the Heart with Keening. The pitch of the tone rose, and a small beam of light shot forth from the hole she had made.

The whole cavern seemed to be holding its breath. Dagoth Ur even seemed to pause. _He really doesn't believe I'll destroy it._

She stabbed it again. And again.

"_Fool! NO!"_

He clawed for her, but she ducked behind the heart, leaving the dagger in it, tearing a great line through it. The pitch was so high now she could barely hear it.

_They were leaving their homes, walking as one. The Sharmat had Called. When people didn't move out of the way, they cut them down. Smoke rose to the skies._

He clawed at her again, but slipped. Somehow, the coin the old legionnaire Wulf had given her had fallen from her pocket, and he skidded on it. It gave her the last few seconds she needed.

She stabbed, again and again, feverish in her work.

Suddenly, it seemed the heart could take no more. It twisted and shrank rapidly, folding in upon itself, bursting into light, vanishing.

The resulting shockwave sent her flying backwards onto the bridge.

Dagoth Ur's roar of anguish filled the cavern.

This sound was real, he was still real, and he was advancing upon her.

The bridges were all falling away from Akulakhan, the platforms breaking from the ceiling and dropping down. Ash creatures were screaming and hurtling into the lava.

Llovesi dodged a falling bridge and felt her own one crumble beneath her. She pushed one last time, running as gravity took hold of the failing planks, throwing herself onto the burning rock at the other side.

Deep claws sunk into her back and flipped her over. Dagoth Ur raked her face, knocking her hemet off and cutting deep into her face. Words were no longer forthcoming, psychic or otherwise; instead, a low guttural growl shook his whole body. Up close he stank of ash, his skin felt like ash. Was there even anything human left?

She punched him with Wraithguard, knocking him back.

"Look at you," she spat. "Look at what you've made yourself. You're not a god. You never were. You're just a creature, clinging onto your mask of humanity. You claim to care, but you're insane."

Dagoth Ur laughed. He rocked on his heels and laughed, the golden mask glowing red.

"_You'll die here, Nerevar. Just like the first time. There will be no escape for either of us. Was it worth it?"_

It was the tools. They had caused all of this madness. The Dwemer, dreaming of their god of logic. The Tribunal, so power-hungry. And Dagoth Ur, spilling lies and corruption in his twisted dream of peace.

As if in a dream, she pulled Sunder from her belt, and threw it into the lava below.

"_Noooooooooo!"_

Dagoth Ur was on her feet, his head following Sunder's graceful arc as it flew out of view.

She pulled Keening from its custom-made sheath and sent it after its brother.

It seemed to hurt Dagoth Ur more than any of the blows she'd made on him up until this point.

She took Wraithguard from her arm, and hurtled it as hard as she could.

For a moment, Dagoth Ur seemed to hesitate. Then he threw himself after the gauntlet, stretching out his long arms in vain. His final howl of despair persisted long after he sunk beneath the lava.

The cavern was still collapsing around her. Llovesi picked herself up and ran, jumped and hurdling as great pieces of rock fell from beneath her feet, dodging as stalactites crashed about her.

Then she slipped and felt herself fall.

_Dagoth Ur was right_, she thought and her heart sunk to her stomach. _This is it. I'm going to die here._

But then a warm, firm hand was grasping hers, pulling her up.

Julan, his face bloody and filthy, grinned at her.

"Well, don't stop now, Llovesi! Run!"

Together they ran. The stone walkway crumbled under their feet, falling almost as fast as they could move. All around them, the destruction caused by the Heart's ultimate burst of energy continued.

They landed, exhausted, on the first stone platform near the door.

"Look," Julan murmured.

Akulakhan was falling.

First, the shoulders dislocated, then the arms, dropping one by one. The massive torso creaked and fell, pulling the rocky foundations with it. For one nightmarish moment Llovesi thought the structure would crush them where they were standing, but it fell against the rock and with a loud grinding noise, slid into the lava. The ash creatures on the walls followed it: followed their creation and followed their master.

Then the cavern was silent.

Llovesi looked over the scene for a long time, then turned to Julan.

"Let's go home," she said.

* * *

**A/N: In many ways, I'm proudest of this chapter, simply because it was the second one I imagined completely in my head (after chapter one)and it turned out pretty much exactly how I saw it. But that doesn't mean it's without fault, and your suggestions and comments are always welcome. Tune in tomorrow, for the final chapter of Fire and Ash!**


	47. Reach Heaven By Violence

_**Chapter 46: Reach Heaven By Violence**_

A nearby crank opened the way back into the antechamber. The caverns were quiet now, and all Llovesi wanted to do was get back to Ghostgate, and sleep for a hundred years. Her muscles were screaming in protest: every step was a challenge, and her face and eye were burning where Dagoth Ur had raked them with his claws.

Julan turned and studied her face with concern.

"Oh, Llovesi..." he said, and placed a gentle hand over her injured eye. "Let me see if I can..."

She felt the pain lessen slightly, but she still couldn't open her eye. The world felt strangely lopsided.

Julan held her in his arms. "I'm sorry," he said, "I tried, but it must have been too late."

Llovesi reached down and drew his sword from its sheath, then raised it to look at her eye.

She didn't have an eye anymore. She almost threw the sword to the ground in shock; instead she forced herself to study it.

Where there had once been her eye was now a bloody pulp of flesh and fluid, dripping down her face into three long scratch marks that had turned her cheek into rags.

She was going to have one hell of a scar.

That was about the only reaction she could sum up at this point. She felt too detached from the injury. The person who had given it to her was now dead, and if it apparently couldn't be healed...

Suddenly, the air in the cave shifted subtly; there was a blinding light and both Llovesi and Julan turned to look, Julan's sword still dangling in Llovesi's hand.

There was a woman standing where before there had only been rock.

She looked a little too bright, a little too real. Every aspect of her appearance, from her loose tendrils of brown hair, to her blue dress, slit to the waist and swaying open, suggested wild power breaking the bounds of refinement. She appeared to be a Dunmer, but her eyebrows were so perfectly arched, her eyes so ruby-red, her skin so flawless, that she also seemed quite inhuman.

Llovesi didn't need Julan's gasp to tell her who this was meant to be.

Azura smiled, and raised her arms benevolently.

_**You no longer bear the burden of prophecy.**_

_**You have achieved your destiny.**_

_**You are free.**_

_**The doomed Dwemer's folly; Lord Dagoth's temptation; the Tribunal's seduction; the God's Heart freed; the prophecy fulfilled. All fates sealed and sins redeemed.**_

_**If you have pity, mourn the loss.**_

_**But let the weeping cease. The Blight is gone, and the sun's golden honey gilds the land.**_

_**Hail, Saviour! Hortator, and Nerevarine, your people look to you for protection. Monsters and villains great and small still threaten the people of Vvardenfell.**_

_**Enemies and evils abound, yet indomitable will might rid Morrowind of all its ills.**_

_**For you: our thanks and blessing; our gift and token given.**_

_**Come. Take this thing from the hand of God.**_

All while she spoke, Azura showed them visions of the world outside. The Blight was lifting, retreating back into the crater of Red Mountain. The red skies were clearing; spring sunshine was caressing the mountain, probably for the first time in years. The Ghostfence was melting away, the blue shield dropping, leaving the carved pillars standing hollow.

There was no more need for it.

Then they were back in the cavern, with Azura smiling down at them.

She held out a slender arm and unfurled her fist to reveal a small ring, set with a glassy black stone. As Llovesi reached out to touch it, the Daedra Prince faded, leaving the ring suspended in mid air.

As Llovesi slipped it onto her finger, she felt suddenly refreshed, as if all her pain and worries had slipped away. She lifted Julan's sword eagerly to her face, but no, the same gruesome injury greeted her, although the skin had healed over slightly.

Julan took her hand, and she smiled. After all, after everything that had happened, they had saved the world and they still had each other. She gave him his sword back. Not bad for a day's work.

"What do you know," he said softly, "Azura really was watching over you!"

* * *

They made they way back through the creaking ruin, each step bringing them achingly closer to the world outside. Finally, they were pushing open the doors to the outside, and stepping into daylight.

The sun beamed down strongly from the petal-blue sky. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called. All around the land was silent.

The Blight storms no longer rose from the still, steaming lava beneath them.

Julan breathed in deeply, and laughed, holding Llovesi close to him.

"At last! Fresh air! I feel like we've been underground in the dark forever. I never want to see another Dwemer ruin as long as I live! And you did it!" He kissed then pulled away sharply, laughing again. "Urgh, you taste like a Blight storm! So. You're no longer bound by destiny... if you ever really were. How does it feel to be free?"

_Free._ It was a big word. Llovesi tasted it in her mind. "I don't know," she said. "I think it's going to take some getting used to."

"Don't worry about it. I think you've earned the right to relax for a bit. You'll feel less confused about everything in time."

"What about you?" Llovesi asked. "Don't you have a tribe to lead?"

"Oh, they can manage without me for a bit." Julan's tone was off-hand, but the way he squeezed her hand told her that maybe he'd made a different decision.

"You don't have to choose me over them," she said. "In fact, don't. I'll go with you."

"No, really," he said, "if they're going to regain their strength they need to learn how to cope on their own! Anyway, I'm sure Sinnammu can take care of things for now."

"I meant it though," Llovesi said hesitantly, unsure how to approach the subject on her mind. "I mean, well, aren't we going to be married?"

"Ah, about that..." Julan was instantly cagey, and her heart sunk.

"You've changed your mind?" she asked.

"No! No, no, no! I meant every word I said, and I still do... I just, well, remembered something."

"What?" Llovesi couldn't believe they were standing in the crater of a volcano discussing this, after all that had happened today. She dropped Julan's hand and folded her arms. "Just tell me."

"Okay. The thing is, among my people, the Ashkhan conducts the marriage ceremony, but, technically, I'm the Ashkhan..."

"Who does it then? The Wise Woman? Like with Kashaud?"

Julan shook his head. "That was just a formality really. Actually, well, technically, an Ashkhan can take anyone as his bride; he just has to... command it. Uh, I sort of did command it, when I said you should marry me. So, technically-"

"-We're already married?"

"Yes. Technically. Sorry. It wasn't on purpose!"

"It's okay!" Llovesi laughed. "You think that after everything today I would really be that angry with you? Although... we will still have a wedding won't we?"

"Of course! You know I don't have much to offer you, but we'll be happy together. I promise. And I meant it – we don't have to stay at the camp. I know you're an adventurer, you might not want to settle down. I feel the same way. Let's just enjoy life and see what happens. And what should happen right now is me taking you to bed for a week!"

He pulled her into his arms, and levitated them up into the blue sky.

Llovesi watched the land as they rose upwards, her hair blowing gently about her face. Then she saw a sight that stopped her heart still.

"Julan... who are all those people?"

There were Dunmer, many Dunmer, standing shock still on the slopes of the mountain, blinking into the sunlight.

For an awful moment, Llovesi thought that it had all been for nothing, that some lingering spell of Dagoth Ur's still held sway over the people of Vvardenfell. Then they landed and she saw just how disorientated they all were.

She approached the nearest man; a Dunmer she recognised from Ald'ruhn called Dravasa.

"Nerevarine?" he asked, and shook his head groggily. "I feel as though I've just awakened from a dream... a terrible dream of the Sixth House..."

"Dagoth Ur was sending out the soul sickness. But he is dead now. It's over," Llovesi said.

Dravasa looked both horrified and relieved.

"Do you mean... have I been... under a spell? A curse? The last thing I remember is feeling some urge to come to the mountain... Good grief. What have I done... I hope... but I haven't thanked you. Please forgive me. I have nothing to offer but my thanks. But I will tell everyone I know how you have saved my life."

"Well, you can't stay here! Come back with us to Ghostgate."

Everyone they met on the path had the same story. They'd been at home; they'd felt the pull to come to the mountain, they'd woken up here. Some of them remembered other dreams they'd had. Others remembered with horror attacking others in the street. All shared similar stories, and all now walked with Llovesi and the same haunted expression on their faces.

Of course, the worse was over, and they were safe now. But memories can last a lifetime.

They hit the shell of the Ghostfence, and followed it round to Ghostgate. A crowd had assembled in the encampment outside.

"There they are!" someone shouted, and cheers broke out across Ordinators, Buoyant Armigers and priests, across Imperial and Dunmer, alike. Galdal, Ralyn, Gamin, Ferone and Selmen were all there too, with all the others who'd been helping to hold the citadels and they were all clapping and yelling. All normal Dunmeri restraint had disappeared.

"Praise Almsivi! The Blight is gone, and the Devil Dagoth Ur is vanquished! Praise the Nerevarine!"

The celebrations there lasted for the rest of the day. At one point, a grinning Julan pulled Llovesi away and they found an empty dormitory all to themselves for the rest of the evening.

But it wasn't all celebrations, and there remained so much to do.

For the next month Llovesi found herself travelling all over Vvardenfell, telling the same story over and over again. There were some meetings she enjoyed more than others. It was a pleasure to revisit the Ashlander camps, and Mashti, as well as Divayth Fyr, Master Aryon and Athyn Sarethi. She endured awkward encounters with Crassius Curio and Duke Vedam Dren. But there were all the other councillors to meet with, and Guild Leaders, and even just ordinary people, all of whom wanted to meet her, talk to her, and thank her.

The final uprising of the sleepers had bought damage and destruction to a few major cities, but nothing that wouldn't be fixed with time. Buildings can be rebuilt, and in the euphoria that followed Dagoth Ur's death, the people of Vvardenfell took to rebuilding their lives with gusto.

Finally, some time near the end of Rain's Hand, Llovesi found herself with some free time again. There was only one meeting left. This was not a meeting she had been summoned for, but she knew he was waiting. And she wanted to go and speak to him, in a way, as much as she was dreading it.

Julan let her go by herself this time, as she ascended the steps to Vivec's Palace.

She wondered vaguely what state she would find him in. Would he even be there? Could the severing of the heart have killed him as surely as it had removed his Godhood? And the other two, Almalexia and Sotha Sil, had they even known? Would she be called upon by them to answer for what she had done?

She pushed open the door and was almost relieved to see Vivec standing there. Standing, no longer floating, looking a little smaller and a little less vivid, but still there.

He opened his mouth before she could open hers, and his voice was still as pure, clear, and strong as it had ever been:

"The Blight is gone, and we have survived. Now we must dedicate ourselves to rebuilding the Temple. And you must dedicate yourself to your responsibilities as Protector of Morrowind."

"Yes, we have survived," Llovesi said, after a moment's silence between them. "But at what cost, I wonder?"

Vivec fixed her with his steely gaze.

"We have lost our divine powers, but not altogether. Some token of the people's faith remains, and we shall dedicate it to rebuilding the Temple. Now that Dagoth Ur is gone, we can turn our energies to the more humble needs of the people. It is good, honest work, and I believe there is redemption in it.

"There are still issues to be resolved between the Temple and the Dissident Priests. And now that our greatest enemy is gone, we must reorganise the Temple to meet the needs of the people. We have less need of Ordinators, for example, and greater need of priests and healers and teachers. And we must find time to mourn and honor the dead.

"Without the power of the Heart, our divine powers diminish. Our days as Gods are numbered. I have told my priests that I shall withdraw from the world, and that the Temple should be prepared for a change. We may be honoured no longer as Gods, but as saints and heroes, and the Temple will return to the faith of our forefathers - the worship of our ancestors and the three good Daedra, Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah. The missions and traditions of the Temple must continue... but without its Living Gods."

"So that's it then? You're mortal again?"

"Perhaps not completely yet. But Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and I gained our divine powers from the Heart of Lorkhan. And now we no longer have access to the Heart, so we must lose our divinity. I have always worn my divinity lightly - fundamentally, I am not at all a serious person - and I will not miss it. I have tried to do what was necessary. I am afraid I have done some harm. I assure you - I will be quite content to be a mere mortal again, dedicated to my own amusements."

He had a remarkably way of delivering statements with such conviction that Llovesi felt compelled to believe him. But he didn't sound nearly as light-hearted or playful as he claimed and she wondered just what toll recent events had taken on him. And the others.

"What of Almalexia and Sotha Sil?" she asked.

"We don't communicate. Without the Heart, our divine powers must diminish. Almalexia takes her divinity very seriously, and the loss will weigh heavily on her. She tends to brood, and I fear she will do herself and others harm. Sotha Sil... I doubt he will even notice the loss. He is completely self-absorbed, and fascinated by the hidden world and its mysteries, and I do not think he even notices us most of the time."

Llovesi nodded, then straightened herself up a little and looked him dead in the eye.

"Have I earned the right to judge you now?"

He didn't speak for a long time, then stepped down from his plinth and traced a long finger down the scarred side of her face. His touch was still like electricity to her, and she flinched and pulled away.

"I know that you have destroyed Kagrenac's Tools. Only time will tell if this will be wisdom or folly. But you have the wit and experience of a proven hero. The Tribunal and the Temple are happy to yield to you the duties of fighting the enemies of Morrowind. So... perhaps."

He turned all walked back to his plinth, then sat cross-legged before her.

"Tell me, Llovesi, can you imagine what it is like to be a God?"

"I suppose not."

"It is a bit like being at once awake and asleep. Awake, I am here with you, thinking and talking. Asleep, I am very, very busy. Perhaps for other Gods, the completely immortal ones, it is only like that being asleep. Out of time. Me, I exist at once inside of time and outside of it.

"It's nice never being dead, too. When I die in the world of time, then I'm completely asleep. I'm very much aware that all I have to do is choose to wake. And I'm alive again. Many times I have very deliberately tried to wait patiently, a very long, long time before choosing to wake up. And no matter how long it feels like I wait, it always appears, when I wake up, that no time has passed at all. That is the God place. The place out of time, where everything is always happening, all at once.

"For Gods, there is no more feeling. Only knowing. But there is a feeling to being mortal. It is very, very sad being mortal. There is happiness, yes. But mostly sadness. As I have said, 'Count only the happy hours.' For mortals, they are all too few."

"I hope we might find some more now."

He shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps. Although I was speaking more in general."

"I was speaking about the here and now. So many people have died; so much damage has been done. I think we need to focus on the happy hours."

"Of course. But you are not both awake and asleep. Real and not real. Maybe one day. You might learn. You are still walking a path. Have you ever read my sermons?"

A phrase of Julan's ran through her mind, something along the lines of 'demented ramblings', and she shook her head carefully. Why was that important now, anyway?

"A shame. I wrote them for you. And others. Many ruling kings may walk this world. Before you, after you and in you. But you - you are here now. And you are a Hero now, and my sermons might suit you. They are nothing if not my lessons: the_ 36 Lessons of Vivec_. You have to understand many things, as I told you before. Be the letter, be a wheel, and, above all: "Reach heaven by violence.'"

"What?" _What on Nirn was he going on about?_ "You speak in many riddles."

He unfolded his legs and walked over to the door, holding it open for her.

"I can tell you no more now. You have to get there by yourself. Reach heaven by violence, Llovesi."

* * *

Julan found her outside.

"How did it go?"

"Strangely. We spoke about many things... the future. Mortality. Happiness."

He hugged her close and they started to descend the steps together. All around the people of Vivec were enjoying the fine spring day, coming to pray at the temple, chatting in the streets. There was an atmosphere of peace and contentment that Llovesi never thought capable of existing on Vvardenfell.

"Come on, Julan. Let's go count the happy hours."

* * *

By the age of twenty-two, Llovesi understood that it was near impossible to know things for certain.

But these things she did understand, one: you can choose your own destiny in life. Two: peace lies between emotion and control.

She thought there ought to be a number three; things always seemed to come in threes. She thought on all she had learnt personally over the past year: exorcising her own demons, understanding that actions can be redeemed. Falling in love. That maybe there are no bad people or good people, just people who do bad and good things. Everything else amounted to no more than a fire raging far away, than ash blowing on the wind.

Then she looked around at the world around her, and she felt in her bones, heart and soul the final thing there was to understand:

She was home.

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

**A/N: Well, not entirely sure what to say! It's finished! Of course, it was finished before, but I didn't have any readers then. So a massive thanks to everyone who's left me a review, or a message, favourited and followed, or who's simply been reading along. Your support has always brought a smile to my face. Thanks to my main reviewers Ozymandeos, FloridaMagpie, OnnaMusha, CampsMcCamper, Claytone, Nexio, N4V1, CheySkywalker, Newtinmpls, Sdhfs and Neytiri! And thanks to you too, if you've been reading along and you've stayed until the end.**

**Llovesi's story will continue in Heart and Stone, which will follow the Tribunal expansion pack. I've got a few chapters, but it's far from finished, so I see updates starting in perhaps about a week, and then subsequent updates will go at a slower pace.**

**As this is the final chapter, I guess I'll reply to any guest reviews here (if I get any more :p)**

**CampsMcCamper - thank you so much! I can say at this point that I definitely have plans to do an Oblivion 'novelisation', because I've had an idea for a sort-of-twist in my head for years, and I have a soft spot for Oblivion (even though I do prefer Morrowind and Skyrim). However, I'm going to finish my Morrowind trilogy first, and keeping writing short stories, so it may not happen for a while. Skyrim, well, I never say never, but I don't think I will do it - not unless I can come up with an interesting and original concept. Morrowind leaves you with so much to flesh out, but Skyrim's story is so cinematic and complete that I honestly don't think I could add anything to it - and let's face it, there are tons of Skyrim main-quest stories out there!**

**Claytone - stop before I blush, you charmer! Seriously though, I'm ecstatic that you think enough of my story to actually go and get a copy of Morrowind! It's a game that I will always have a soft spot for, so I'm very happy that other people are still discovering it. It's reviews like yours that make me think, hey, maybe I can do this writing thing after all! So thanks a lot!**


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